Depression is my question,
Is that what's wrong with me...

I’m depressed, inside slowly dying
But you can't see what I don't show...

The only time she was happy,
Was when she was dreaming of dying...

Her hands cold and blue
A smile frozen upon her lips...

My friends don't know me
What they see is fake...

My wings, so tattered and torn
From when I fell upon the earth...

I wonder through burnt down towns
Seeing what’s left of the diaster...

All alone in the darkness,
I can’t break free...

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you
But you can’t see me...

This is not a poem just something I need to say
I know some of my friends read my stuff on here...

I'm sorry for everything,
I'm sorry I left...

What’s the point in being here?
What’s the point in living...