Death of the Depressed

I lay in a tub shivering as my body
loses against this intruder.
Guilt and depression, my common
enemies, has now infested my body.
My eyes once alert are taken by darkness
as I slip into unconsciousness.
What have I done to feel so wrong?
Who has caused me to slit my wrists?
The blood that once flowed though my
body now fills the tub, bathing every inch of my body.
As everyone continues to live his or her
pathetic lives, why is mine filled with harshness?
Shouldn’t life be happy?
Shouldn’t we wake up every morning in blithe spirits?

All my life I see countless souls build, sweat, bitch,
and suffer to ‘achieve’ a little bit of ‘greatness’ in their
lives that will be worth nothing when they die.
Are they that blind to the course nature has made for them?
They’re maybe smarter then I think.
I guess it’s smarter to not think about or see life they way I do.
It should be looked upon through a foggy window.
So all the obscure things in life are less noticeable…

By adding makeup on something hideous, you end
up with something beautiful right?
Then why am I here dieing by my own hand, feeling
more guilty and sad then I ever felt in my life?
I’ll never know now, it’s to late.
I’m dieing and not you, anyone, or me can change it.
Life’s a bitch right?
But instead of me fucking in, it has me fucked.

By ToRtURed SoUlz

I'm nOtHINg ~tHE enD~