I feel so lost,
So desperate.
I don't want to burden my friends
And I don't want my parents to know,
So I find myself sitting down,
With only a pen and
A blank sheet of lined paper.
I say that
But there's something else,
A million and one negative thoughts -
Depression, suicide,
About as uplifting as it gets.
I write a poem,
Not very good,
But I guess it helps
Sometimes.
Other times I've gone too far,
Beyond help.
Getting these thoughts on paper is right.
Without my poetry,
My head would explode
With all that negativity,
From which I just can't escape.
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