Depression Seeks Solice
It's stranger than normal,
this feeling I hide,
and it's an ominous feeling,
that I'll tuck down inside.
And my chest will envelope it,
this horrible truth,
something I can't get rid of,
but I'll hold it as proof.
To a mirror made of tears,
as I try not to lie,
but as the sun's rising,
I fear I might die
from it's impact of purity,
I will never fear,
and a sigh of defeat
deaf to any mortal ear,
will be left out softly
as I fall to the ground,
and Death will destroy me,
with barely a sound.