melancholic depressed lonely void

My False Face

When I see their smiling faces,
I make my facade contort and change,
So that I look the same as the ones I hate.

 

I hate the way that they laugh,
As if their isn’t a single sad thing in the word,
It makes me sick to hear their humor.

 

When I see their faces I want to scream,
To scream and slice away at their happiness,
Until they no longer have a face to laugh and smile with.

 

I want to cut the smiles right off of their faces,
To peel back the layers and see if I find,
What I have used myself to hide.

 

To see if I find a facade that they use to hide,
And to see if they hate and seethe, just like me,
At the people that make my blood just boil and steam.

 

For while they have all of their fun and lay out all day in the sun,
I feel like I can’t breathe and that the sun will never love me,
That it will never shed its light and warmth for someone who is so cold and numb.

 

So here I stand in the shade with my “friends,”
Looking so bright and happy,
While on the inside I drown in darkness wile sharpening a knife as I cry.

 

For if I have to slowly drown in my own liquid melancholy and sadness,
Then I shall try my hardest to bring those fools to their knees,
Where I shall smite them with my dangerously sharp madness.

 

I will make them feel the bitter and sharp taste,
Of the pain that I swam through and lived with,
While looking for the false light.

 

The light that promised warmth and safety,
That held care and love for everyone,
Everyone, it seems, but me.

 

That rejection is like as infection that started at the skin,
And is slowly devouring and corroding me from the outside in,
Until it hits my heart and then it will be the end.

 

The end of someone who never truly received the chance to grow and begin,
Never got the chance to feel the warmth of the sun’s light,
Simply because they were planted in the shade by someone who didn’t care.

 

They didn’t know or care that the little seed that they planted,
Would grow to be someone that lived and seethes,
Because of them being careless they would make someone that only waited for an end.

 

An end to the madness that gnawed its way through their skin,
And into their heart where it then began to fester and grow,
Until there was not a person left at all, but only a shell.

 

And on that shell there is a face,
But not for any emotion,
Only a banner for false looks and feelings.

 

Because that is what faces are made for,
False emotions that never truly lead back to the heart,
For haven’t you ever noticed that facades and faces are so similar.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I've been going through a period of depression lately and this poem seems to express quite well how I feel when interacting with people.

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Painted Life

Painted Life

Painted waterfalls that never fall

Water that goes nowhere at all

In the distance thin colorful trees

Wind that never blows the painted leaves

A brook with still water under a stone bridge

A little old cottage painted on a lifeless ridge

Same old every day trapped in the same scenery

Passersby staring at the never changing me

As I stand in a painted flower field alone again

Trying to survive this painted life I painted myself in

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Anhedonia

Sometimes I spend my moments looking into the bleak
I find nothing compelling but I've made this place a home
The coldness of the fire, I stand on the dwindling flame
The agony of feeling absolutely nothing, a feeling I cannot explain

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