I’m miles mar***** the saddest man alive
I’m running from these thoughts
I’m running in a line
Pencil strokes thick as I jot down sad thoughts
Alotting a dot at the end of a string of
Plot thickens like a crop thickens over time, I think I’m ready to be cut down
Reaper, reaping my mind of happines, cut me in half down the spine
My amygdala on both halfs so depression doesn’t leave the mind
Cut me in half and save some for later, or abandon me now – I just want to cater
to whatever you need, feast on me if you please.
Scavenge my body, pluck me of my berries.
Be careful I’m sweet I’m sour, with a hint of blue and a rose flower so when you reach into the mind be careful of my white blood cells, my thorns, they protect me from viruses trying to plague my body.
My auto immunity leaves me crippled so make sure the fruit isn’t rotten
Saddness encompas my body
I want to give her a hobby.
I’m giving myself up.
Depression fucks me daily.