This depression, like an arrow straight through the heart,
it must've been playing with crayons when it drew the dark.
It's my life, I'm cast in the loser part,
every day I suffer, my heart, I lose a part.
My soul, I lose a part,
my brain, well, that already blew apart.

I gained a licence for silence,
whilst my brain suffers the violence,
from an entity that refuses to be silenced.

I have no words to say,
well none that I'm prepared to say,
or any that I'm not too scared to say.
Depression, the devilish, demonic monster that scares the birds away.

So, if you ever need a metaphor on how this darkness affects me,
I feel so dead that even the crows wouldn't peck me!

Look, I respect my depression but it just disrespects me.
I mean, how can it respect me when it wrecks me?

These days are dark,
my brain's far from razor sharp,
so no matter how many times I make a start,
I still break apart..
The Story Of My Life,
where I'm forced to play the part,
even though I hate the part,
'cause I feel lethargic and loveless with this tazered heart..

© Ashley (urb4npo3t) 2020