Missing Archives

No one has asked me if I’m okay,

As the blood begins to fade.

My wrist tells a story,

My smiles tell you not to worry.

The blood pours as my skin splits,

Look at my arms and decorated wrist.

Depression has always been a friend,

Will remain so, until my life comes to an end.

I try and call out but no one hears,

Trust me; dying isn’t one of my fears.

Everyone looks but no one asks,

They lied and said, “Depression won’t last.”

It’s a silent battle, I face alone,

I call you and you don’t pick up the phone.

I stand behind the gun, finger on the trigger,

You can still hear it, the pop still lingers.

I look down and I feel my wrist burn,

This is a lesson I thought I had learned.

Bury me down, deep in the ground,

Some secrets aren’t meant to be found.

The smile is a mask, and everyone has believed,

Don’t feel bad you were not the only one that was deceived.

My performance will come to an end,

And depression will still be my friend.

I waited and I fought,

Sadly this is a battle I lost.