Suicidal

 

Suicidal 

For several moments I sank into my solitude,
With a heart full of darkness and grief
The world no longer makes me happy, everything is a great vastness
The will to live has already become a huge rottenness.

In the same way I struggle with my happy expression
Deep down, deep down I get lost in my depression
I don't fight to have a power of expression,
Little makes a difference to me lately.

My thoughts seem to be in a pressure cooker
About to explode, misfortunes and rage fly everywhere
I feel my body screaming, Abort this mission, live for what...
I can't stand my act of expression anymore, I'm one more with depression

My poems are half means of confession within everything I do
Living is being something under pressure, in the midst of all my thoughts,
I pretend to be happy in the midst of my bad thoughts,
I'm just another person with depression.

And as a youtuber I see said, "People will only realize when the person is bad, when they die, then it will be too late, and when we seek help, they say it's freshness or even say it's just to get attention." No one knows what we go through, or even how we express our feelings.

Soon it will be just another Suicide in the world, then maybe they will understand everything I go through...

For now that's it.

Tomorrow there may be sad news.

Barueri Young Poet