Numb

Everything I felt came rushing back.
It was like suicide.
My thoughts hung me.
My emotions shot me.
My fears cut me.
My imperfections were an overdose.
Mental suicide...and no matter how much I tried I couldn't stop this inevitable death.
My mind was waiting for me to make a mistake and when that happened it would find another way to torment me...
And another.
And another.
And another.
But it's okay because it didn't matter anymore.
My mind was dead.
It's okay tho.
I didn't want to be alive anymore.
So my body would soon be dead too.

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

MARs

You are not alone. Depression doesn't define us, rose up, tell the stories, you are worth so much. Keep on being.

Muzik Zander

Thanks.