Scars of Depression

These scars cover my body,
from my mentle pain. I keep on
torturing myself, until I am slain.

I think about death and suicide,
it's the only way. I have no one
to confide in, so I best die
today.

How shall I do it? Maybe with a
knife. Or maybe with some
sleeping pills so I can die
during the night.

No. I must do it quickly, so I won't
feel the pain. Maybe with a gun,
I don't think I will feel a thing.

But wait for a second, what am I
going to miss? Laughter, fun,
and the beautiful sunsets.

Should I give up my own life,
for things that people said?
Oops. it's too late now. I'm
already dead.

(I hate my f**k'n life!)