Dear DepressionDear Depression,
I remember so perfectly
The moment I met you.
I was nine years of age,
Wearing a pale pink dress,
My hair curled elegantly,
Falling gently around my shoulders.
And, ha! I thought it would last,
But was I wrong, oh, was I wrong.
I remember the moment someone
Impaled my mind with their opinions
Of who I was as
That, dearest Depression, is the moment
I understood what it meant
And, although it was you,
Who made it hurt,
Who made it throb
And made my thoughts thrash within my
You were my friend.
I turned to you,
my 36-day-long sadness.
I loved you.
But it killed me.
Loving you made me aware
Of what "suicide" was,
And more importantly,
Why is existed.
Loving you brought me happy little moments
Cuts on my thighs.
I listened to you, oh, Depression...
"Find the nearest scarf, rope, thick string"
You'd say these things
Echoing in my bedroom
Art and Other WeaponsI use words like an anchor.
Tying myself down to a piece of paper.
In books my heroes used swords,
I use a pen.
I got a mind as violent as a hurricane.
I could use these words to build me a raft.
Because it’s the only weapon I have.
And this pen isn’t what it looks like.
I finally found some sort of voice.
I can use it. These thoughts inside our heads are like bombs, so let’s defuse it.
It’s my torch.
I could burn the shadows, set fire to these fears.
I could use ink instead of tears.
I could use books and poetry like a night light
Because I never liked the dark anyways.
I could use it like a head stone…
Writing about all of my friends who couldn’t find a flash light
I could write and write
Until my skin was stained with lilies made of ink.
I write because I think
And when you think too much there is no escape.
So I say, when everything is too much
Little dream weaver, you have all the pieces.
Arm yourself with a paint brush,
Depression is an OptionDepression is a choice, my dear,
And happiness the same
You choose this illness, don’t you?
What a tragic little game.
Depression is an option, love
Just get up out of bed
Take your tears and worries
And just smile now instead.
Depression is a choice, you see,
And so is suicide.
Just sit back, kick your feet up, dear
Enjoy this perfect ride.
Get over your own standards
Of what everyone should be.
Just smile for once, and maybe
You’ll be living perfectly.
Depression is an illness
That we feel so deep within.
Why would anybody choose
To write poetry on their skin?
Unless there lies a reason, dear,
I would not choose to die.
If depression was an option...
I’d choose to say goodbye.
HetaliaxDepressed!Reader:Self-Inflicted AchromaticHetalia x Scary! Depressed! Reader: Self-Inflicted Achromatic
I want to be a person just like you, don't you see?
I want to be a person who is still being "me"
A tired sigh escaped your lips. You were just so damn tired. The other countries said that you, (f/n) or (c/n), was scarier than Russia himself. But of course, you have lived 2500 years with wars and bloodshed always trailing after you. You just really want to be happy. But all those wars and blood imprinted on your mind, you really just released off a dark (a/c) aura and a stoic atmosphere.
It really would be nice but I'm paying a price
'Cause I'd really, not be me and that would not suffice
You asked yourself, "I know my face doesn't show my pain. But isn't it obvious in my eyes? I'm lonely and hurt" You rubbed your numb (s/c) wrist, yesterday's cuts still had a colorless ache to it. You picked your silver knife, twirling it around watching the others argue. The said knife is the one you also use to cut yourself.
A dream which
GayI am gay.
I'm not a disease, I'm not a problem
I'm not an affliction
I don't need treatment.
I don't need help
I'm not sick
I'm not confused
I'm not a sin.
I am gay.
I'm your daughter
Your co worker
A complete stranger
I am gay.
I need love, just like you
I need smiles
I need support
I need a hug
I need a friend
I need a family
I need acceptance
I need understanding
I need you
I am gay.
I know what love is
I know what pain is
I know what hate is
I know what life is
I am gay.
And I need you to love me
The same way you loved me before you knew
I am gay.
And I have experienced hate
From more people than just you
I am gay.
And I wont change.
I wont give up.
I wont back down.
I wont pretend.
I wont lie.
I wont deny.
I wont hide.
I wont hurt.
I am gay.
And that's okay.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,
And so thou shall remain.'
I will not let you have any other before me,
Nor can there be any after.
For it is your soul that I have shared
And it is your soul that I do take.
Your worship is the blood that flows through me.
Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.
I have accepted that which is torn;
And if you are not whole before me,
Then by my will and word,
You shall be made whole.
So fear not this frigid world,
Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.
I shall take that which has been torn from you
And weep life into it,
Until only warmth remains.
For thou art already mine,
And so thou shall remain.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:
I did not ask to be birthed
Into a cycle of stagnation.
I did not ask to be told,
That my dreams are achievable;
Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.
I did not ask for a failing system,
Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.
Nodding eagerly at one another,
As they wait for an inevitable death.
This I did not ask for,
And I am certain that most of you did not either.
But it is for that reason,
And for that reason alone, I say:
That it is up to us,
We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,
To create a system that is better,
Than the bitter shackles of the past.
Justice is what I long for.
Justice for MY people.
The Hero With Headphones The hero with headphones.
He has walked a long, lonely road.
He has lost his dad and that is never easy.
He has loved deeply and lost almost all.
He has almost ten million fans who
are striving to do good for those
To be the force for good. The light in the
dark to those in need.
Each of them look up to the hero in headphones,
no matter how much of a goober he is.
He wears a Warfstache and carries a tiny box named Tim.
He plays video games and records himself screaming in terror as
monsters fill the screen.
He commits to charity work for those in need. Always humble.
He is OUR hero in headphones.
Who is this hero you may wonder?
He is the kind of guy people look up to.
He is the leader of a force for good.
He is kind, courageous, and loving.
He is the hero in headphones..
His name will be passed on for generations.
His videos will be shared continuous
you're much stronger than you thinkI'll be the first to tell you
scissors don't need to be brought to a wrist
to cut deep
because cutting off your heart from you head,
or yourself from your dreams,
is also enough
to make you bleed
and there's ink spilled all over these pages,
and at times it seems tears
are cheaper than water from a spout:
these lines need diluted,
these blots are a dark, dark sea
and maybe I'm not too good at swimming,
even if it's just through a pool of ink
but I've learned if you just keep paddling,
you're much stronger than you think.