Its Sharp Edges

Loneliness kills.

Its Sharp Edges

No one should ever suffer from "Depression."

Not a child.

Not an adult.

Not even me.

You see I was born underneath the word "Depression."

My life has out numbered that.

All the moving.

All the fails.

All the loss.

When I was younger I had this devastation of having a family.

I never knew what that meant.

I went by me, Myself.

No mother.

No father.

Traveling has worsened me.

It was never going to get better.

I didn't know how to control it.

Survive it.

Or

To live it.

I was alone.

With no one to run to.

No one understood what my worst has been.

Neither did none care.

No one but a "Blade."

It doesn't matter where it came from.

sad poetry
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