depression (Remove filter)

Grim

The flower grew within, the fumes were fornicated. Bastards grew on paper, spilt ink spread their legs to the core of chaos. Thus the evil brewed bombs. You don’t see a shadow in the dark docile day. Only when it burns you can see your damned skin and the fire. The shadow of a truth turning grey, sat beside by the yellow day!

 

PC: Unknown

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balletdancedepressiongrimpainpoetry

The steps of losing your mind

You stare. 
Thinking isn’t your game, anymore.
Wait for the next reflex to barge in.

Stare.

PC: unknown.

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crazydeathdepressionpoetry

Clink

 

Piercing poles of what shattered in abruptness
Has a bit of touch to it.
Strange things with glasses, I tell you.

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depressionemptyglassPoetry

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