Sorry if I sound like an angst bucket...

[spaniel]

...but I've always envied people who could turn their mental illness into art, so I decided to give it a try. Please give your criticisms.

It is three in the morning
And I am in a dark room, so humid from secretion
Of false pleasure and the emotion lying beneath
And my face is lit by a portal to too many people in the world
And everything is gone
And I'm melting
And I can't solidify again, despite being too frozen to the world
And I'm drifting like a gas
Despite melting and being frozen
I don't know who I am anymore
Why am I still alive
Why am I still alive
My fingers ache, typing this small testament
I can't do anything anymore
I can't survive
Why am I still alive
Why am I here
I can't see what anything is anymore
Why is this planet here anymore
I'm strangled and starved
I'm soaked and bloated
By defeat and world
and why am i alive any more
and why am i here any more
and why does no one know
and i am trapped by our world
and i am more dead than alive
and everything is toppling in on itself
and everything is the same
and no fire is beautiful anymore
and i could burn and burn and never feel it
these are my last days
and it all feels like nothing
Why am I still alive
Why am I still alive

No one would care
If I were no longer here
And I can despair
about my personal fears
And I'm afraid that I'll die
But I'm embracing it as well
No one would cry
If I finally fell
Why am I still alive
Why am I still alive

[spaniel]

More depression-related poetry.


Sadness becomes me.
Is this all I can be?
Depression is my only personality.

I have no self-esteem.
Did I once have hopes and dreams?
Everything holding me is tearing at the seams.

I need to finally fall apart.
Sadness is my only art.
I have no ideas, just a broken heart.

[tolpuddlemartyr]

Fuckin' hell, I dunno. Wish I could offer you a cup of tea or a hug or something.

The imagry in the first one was quite effective!