End

Pain swirling around me. Buried in my skin,
pumping from my lead heart into my veins like mercury.
I feel heavy in my blood, but light in my head,
trying to push out these feelings--thoughts of sin.
These thoughts are not known by many;
they do not know of my wish to be dead.

It's the heavy swelling, not only in my head, but everywhere.
Only, they--my parents, friends, everyone--are all oblivious to what's happening.
Clueless of how I feel.
As if they never bothered to be there.
So, I hurt. I cry. I hide my face over the dampening
sheets that I call my only comfort. For I've never known a better way to deal.

Another secret under my sleeves and another inner-trouble left unsolved.
I wish to tell them my problems, worries, and and share my hate.
Cry until tears cannot come. Embrace them until I'm too weak.
I'll be happier, I swear, and become more invloved.
Then, they'll love me and we'll start over with a clean slate
and spend my nights sleeping without tears on my cheek.

Naturally, that's just a dream; they will never care.
"Depression is a fake disease for those who want pity", she says.
"It's not my fault that they're so sad and morbid."
That may be true, but you've made one person sad. So, could you just spare
two minutes to listen to your daughter? I won't disappoint, Miss.
When, I'm done, you'll find me as pure as a white orchid.