Why do I matter?
Nothing I do means anything.
I am worthless.
Empty.
Alone.
I am surrounded by my friends, yet I am alone.
I am aching to feel something other than sadness.
I want to feel.
I yearn to experience something other than this stupid depression.
So I cut,
And I cut
Until the skin on my thighs is riddled with traces of red.
Scarlet drips down my thighs.
I am in pain,
And I am so happy
Because I can finally feel.
YOU ARE READING
Private Thoughts of a Depressed Teen
PoetryThis is just a collection of poems I've written throughout the years. Yes, I know most of them suck. Yes, I know almost all of them are personal. I'm just putting these up because I feel like maybe some people could relate them and feel a little les...
