Kenn's Book Of Poems

Alone

Black.
It's an empty colour.
A colour with no one to help then.
No one to free them from hell.
They suffer in pain.

They cry to the darkness.
A messy ball of feelings.
An unseprable ball of darkness.
No one pays attention to them.

Their friends were told to stay away.
They have no clue.
That pain that they endure.
They never even bothered to defend.
Their friends, now backstabbers.

They trust no one now.
They were once happy.
But now they're back in a black box.
A dark one too.

A black box full of emptiness.
A black box full of tears.
A black box full of darkness.
A black box that they can't escape.

The backstabbers don't pay attention.
They don't see the pain.
They don't know what goes on.
They don't care one bit.

Everyday is a new struggle.
A new pain.
A new death wish.
A new wish for it all to end.

They comfort the darkness.
Comfort with a sharp tool.
It feels so good.
Another weight lifted off their lives.

The darkness was cut off one day.
Overcame it.
They unacheived the outcome.
They weren't alone anymore.

Their friends were in shock.
Their friends were in denial.
They couldn't believe it.
They became friends again.

They're not in pain anymore.
They can't even feel pain.
They had people now.
They weren't alone anymore.

HOLY CRAP. Longest poem yet.

Anyone that is battling depression, I understand your pain. I'm still overcoming mine. This is mainly my account on my depression. It's like at the part right now where their friend (friends in the poem, not irl.) Leaves them behind. It's caused me to go back straight to the bottom. I hope that the outcome is just like the ending of this poem.
You are not alone. Millions of people go through depression everyday. And you and I are two of those million.