I'm just sad, I'm not depressed. My life's not bad, but it's not the best. I need to get this off my chest. School's giving me no rest.
Assignments and tests, Here and There Too much peer pressure everywhere The stress is killing me, I'm pulling out my hair Can't wait for the weekend, I'm gonna relax I swear.
Alone, don't like to go outside No friends, I'd rather stay inside Everyone says I shouldn't hide But in this poem, I'll confide
So many things going through my mind, A lot to do but there never seems to be time. I feel so broken yet so whole, its a feeling I can't even begin to describe. So I write, I write because that's the one place where I never need to hide.
I don't breathe, I gasp I don't live each day, I survive I am not getting better, but I am trying I need to get this off my chest Because carrying this around alone is utter distress.
I try to get better but each time my surroundings pull me back down Loneliness strokes my back and self-hatred engulfs my mind
Who lined the soles of my shoes with lead, While magnets hide beneath the floorboards, How heavy each step to reach the door, As I make my way up this icy fjord.
My hard work pays but less indeed, why it's difficult to learn mimicry, the colours that others bathe in, are far brighter, than my dim hues.
I am but a ghost in this Barren wasteland. My life falls like sand in an hourglass, Without a thought or stutter, I am merely along for the ride, As I watch despair Become a trusted friend.
All of the tests are making me stressed. If you are also stressed be my guest. I wear my favourite vest, But I get bullied and none of my friends protest. Bye, I better get some rest.
But never do I think I'm blessed, Or that life is a test, I continue to dwell in my mental mess, Nothing feels right, I feel there's nothing left, I need to appreciate the opportunities that I get, What I have on this day, May not be with me on the next
I'm just sad, but I'm not depressed, Because of I know a lot of mess. I would describe this, I guess, But there is no one's chest That can understand my mess. Many people understand it less. I am tired, tired, yes, But I am going through my ways, All the best, all the rest.
Some people say I am annoying and bothered them, As if I can't believe in love or happiness. But it's not true, I know, not less.
Some people don't want to hear: Why other people so cruel in les gests? Why other people don't believe in happiness? Why does the person do that with another? Could you say to me, mother, mother? I believe that I know the right answer.
I'm just sad, but I'm not depressed, Because of I know a lot of mess. I just don't like to discuss it with them. I just don't like to discuss someone's else. Some people say I am not happy. It's not true. I know a lot of mess.
Credits (in order of stanzas): Bruvton Jezzy Jay (Booksie) Christy Wisdom (Write The World) The Dreamer (Write The World)
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