Before I meet depression
Lip biting tricycle riding, a few that flew, we never had a clue, like a flower missing a bee, a trunk with no tree, this could possibly be the last thing I’ll ever write because I’ll never make it through this night, just let my mother know I was sober, I never ment to hurt her, but this life offers no light, no one could ever feel the way I do. But I am wrong people feel the way I do, they manage with a smile while I file all my troubles on my arms. Crying mixed with laughing breaking bread and making the bed, I choose not to leave because maybe someday I’ll be just like you, managing, hiding, taking pills that chill my tunnel vision dreams, drinks that blend themselves, bars that never close. I’ll close this knife for one more night, I’ll kiss my wife and wipe the tears from our eyes and it will be just like before.
