Depression

Black is the color
that the sad wear in mourning
feeling of wanting them back.

Black is the color
that befriends bạn when no one else is there
that holds bạn in a prison with no escape
keeping bạn from happiness
hiding in a dark corner of a room.

Black is hot coffee in the morning,
a bat flying through caves,
scratching of fingernails against a chalkboard,
a cat's silky fur.

Black is the night sky revealing stars,
Ghosts lurking in the shadows,
a monster's ferocious scream,
evil that lies within your soul.

Nothing feels good anymore. I feel like every little bit of happiness is a đắng, cay đắng piece of kẹo that’s supposed to be sweet but instead makes my stomach churn . I feel messed up and out of place as if without the thing my mother ripped from my tim, trái tim I can no longer survive. Have bạn ever felt as if someone was your rock and without them you’ll sink? Well, imagine that rock being torn right out from under you. All bạn can do is sink. All bạn can do is drown. When emotions became to much to handle I became an artist. I painting was my favorite. I liked to watch the paint drip and then dry. Nobody’s perfect. I’ve been trying to reach my mothers expectations and every time I seem inches away from them they seem to di chuyển farther. I don’t know what to do. I feel like my whole world is falling apart. I’m already drowning so it’s not like I can scream for help. If I do... I might choke.