welcome friend, it's dark down here.
for most, it's much too grim
the table's set with plates half empty
the cups spill o'er their rims
I'm sorry I closed off
no, I've not seen her in a while
I stopped writing, scared to overshare
and it hurt too much to smile
I wish you'd never found me here.
brutal, much, but it's not fake
the grave that seems to beckon
with each defiant breath I
I hate how much I have to hide
but when they ask me how I am
it's not to know what's in my head;
“I’m doing well (just down again.)”