Confessions of depression
With shiny steel blades
Biting at my veins

I’m talking to a priest
As I mutilate my own skin
Over a copy of the Bible
My blood being the ultimate sin
Talking fast but not saying much of anything
As boredom streaks across his face
And with the solemn bell’s ring
His warm eyes have turned black
With his understanding smile
A looming line above his chin

Every inverted cross represents me
My actions noted and demoted
To the dirt that runs in my veins

I’m afraid of the dark
The dark that shines so evilly
I tear at the duvet of night
As it encloses me in vacuum-sealed sanity

These dying leaves are waving in the water
Waving their goodbyes to the reflection of the sane
(There is no sanity)

Biting at my veins
These shiny steel blades
Confess my depression.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others