I Write Poetry
I cry so hard every night, when no one can hear.
Even though I am is sad, I disguise my sorrow
So, no one will fear.
A troubled soul, Battling my own silent war.
I have been beaten down, and broken.
Shattered to the core.
In my desperation,
Oh, How I yearn for that sensation.
The warmth of my blood,
dripping from my skin.
A cutter yet,
I hide very it well.
Wearing long sleeve shirts,
And nobody can tell.
You can only wonder.
How long have I suffered.
And if I will have the courage to fight it.
This depression.
I do this only this to help
To release the tension.
Or will I continue every night.
To cry out, with my beaten, worn eyes.
With the cuts getting deeper.
And I will succumb to what is defeating me.
This is my slow demise