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Depression

The long walk alone

By Helena SparksPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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You tell me you're my friend but you're really a coward,

After everything you put me through and you got up and left.

They say you can rely on your friends and family but all that's left is dust like powder,

In the end you're the only one standing while others have left you in the dark.

But that's ok because no matter what, your demons will never leave you,

You sink so low, the lowest you have gotten to the point you may as well leave your mark.

Bombarded with messages from people who claim they really care,

But you doubt everyone since you have been left all alone.

I mean life's a game which isn't played fair,

Some may lose their mind fighting this pathetic battle which will, in the end, cost them their life,

While others try and gather their strength for another tomorrow.

But as another day comes you look at the knife,

Which then later leads to beautiful scars to show everyone you survived the battle.

Then here it comes the comments from everyone on how pathetic and stupid you are,

For nearly costing your life instead of thinking of others.

But no matter how close you are you will always be that one step afar,

But that doesn't matter because you're the one in the dark.

The only thing the doctors can give you to "keep" you going are those pathetic tablets,

That you eventually stop taking because of the urge of that voice that says "do it, take the overdose."

Which then out of nowhere becomes a habit,

A never-ending game of live or die.

Because you know you are now by yourself,

Then you end up saying to people not to cry once you end up in the fire,

As it's not like anyone was there when you needed them the most.

So what's the point when I am gone?

Do us a favour and, at my funeral, don't make a toast.

To my so-called friends and family, please don't cry at my funeral,

Instead sit there and reflect on how you left me and then treat each other.

The countdown begins with every Roman Numeral,

As the clocks tick and then I know my time is running out!

slam poetry
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About the Creator

Helena Sparks

I love to draw, read and write poems

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