I haven’t been able to finish a book for three months
And I am unable to listen to any new music now
I am watching my soul slowly sink in the quick sand
And I can do nothing
Watch it disappear.
All I am looking forward to is change
I have convinced myself that as winter fades
So will my depression
And I will emerge as a new person in summer
But its hard to change
When people’s perceptions don’t
And its hard to change
Without mourning the person I will leave behind.
I am unable to enjoy the things I used too
And I don’t know whether that’s my fault.
Writing used to be something I do for fun
This is how I save myself
This is how I survive
This is how I keep my soul from attacking itself
My pen is my razor, my pills, my noose
I’m not sure if its killing me
Or keeping me alive.
Its like I’m in a cage of my own invention
And as I watch everyone else live
Why am I not feeling those things?
And I’m in a cage of my own invention
There is no way out.