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Josephine Wilea Oct 2018
I am only alive
to see for myself if
I am truly wanted,
if people truly need me,
or if I am a burden.

I want break down,
I want to cry,
but all I can do
is suffer in silence.

My body is numb
but my chest is tight
with so much pain.

I feel nothing
and everything.

This is depression.
Josephine Wilea Jul 2018
Sometimes there are days,
The rare days
When the medication seems to be working.
When life seems bearable,
And I see a future for myself.

But then I get to thinking,
What is it all for?
What does it all amount to?
What is my purpose in this world?

The answer is simple:
Nothing.

Spiraling once again,
I realize I want to be dead.
But right now I cannot die,
Too inconvenient a time.

So I turn to the next best thing,
To the scissors in my bathroom.
A tiny, silver, dainty pair,
That nobody would imagine the use for.

My left wrist,
Wearing a permanent white bracelet.
The skin on my hips, discolored with tally marks
Of each minute I wanted to die.

But I'm not dead.
Most would call that an achievement.
I call it weak.

I don't have the guts to get what I want,
I'm too afraid to take it.
I do though, and I realize
That at the moment I don't truly want it.
Josephine Wilea Jul 2018
My friends say I smile all the time,
That I don't have a serious face.
I find this particularly funny,
Because I constantly remind myself
That my frown must be erased.

Nobody wants to see
What is really under my mask.
And if they have a clue what it is,
They are too afraid to ask.
Josephine Wilea Jun 2018
The way she smiles as she walks,
The way she jokes when she talks.
The serious expression her face takes on,
The way her eyes are never drawn.
The feeling when she hugs me to her chest,
And all my problems go to rest.
The nickname that she gave to me,
Always spoken so playfully.
The slight wrinkles on her forehead,
From life's problems that she was too early exposed.
This is the girl that I love,
A fighter,
A survivor,
A warrior.
Though we will never be together,
My love for her will never falter.
Josephine Wilea Jun 2018
Every day when I see you,
My heart does a little dance,
But it also cries out in pain,
We will never be more than friends.

— The End —