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King Depression
Depression comes like cold wind and snow
But doesn't melt when the sun grows -
Grotesque, it's head sneers and snorts
Devouring your emotional core

Leaving you bleeding from broken memories
Freshly cutting with precision, incisions with surgical steel
Scalpelling back the nerves of your soul,
Divulging in its presence, well known.

The shards of your heart become the knife in your back
Depressions’ way of mending you, comes with a fact.
It doesn't comfort, won't teach you how to act,
drowning you in sorrow, till your soul becomes black.

A sacrificial lamb to the monstrous mentality -
Making one fall, bow at the knees
Without warning it will become your king.


© Words Of Anthrax