They compare addiction to being on a wagon,
With depression it's a cliff,
You teeter on the edge,
And relapse when you fall off of it.
It happens quite often, and it doesn't take much,
Then your falling and falling
Lost in depressions clutch.
And the knives in the kitchen look like ropes,
You can climb them back up to the top,
You'll be bloody as you find solid ground,
But for a moment the struggle will stop.
But you know you shouldn't do it,
Though you're still not quite sure why,
So you gaze at them longingly,
Fall,
And wave to the world goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poetry
PoetryMy only escape is through my writing. Welcome to my world ~ It's not very pretty, but I hope it makes you feel something. *Cover credit; Kaylannette
