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When Does it Stop

I wallow in my pit of sorrow

Ever the vigilant depressive

Waiting

Waiting on arms to reach around me

Pull me off my back

Hoping

Hoping one day I will be understood

This is not my choice

Praying

Praying she will understand

God alone can not fix me

Thinking

Thinking depression is better

Than the swing from happiness to anger

Wishing

It would all just end

Past Crashing Back

Sometimes my past becomes more than my present can handle. With no one to tell but myself in the mirror. So I scream at myself and say the only good hero is a dead one. Wishing I could find peace. Praying for the pain to end and the anger to go away. Hoping all anyone sees is the kind me. The bit of love that I force to the surface because it is the only part of me I wish to keep. So now I keep the beast at bay. I pet my dog, smoke my cigar crying silent tears. It will all scar over again soon.