Bed

Sometimes I just can't get up, not even out of bed;

My body is rendered useless by my thoughts,

And what i would so much rather be right now is dead.

I just lay there, all alone, wondering what to do,

Should I take the easy way out? Should I die?

Or should I just hurt myself? I do not have a clue.

Everything is so futile; there's no f*****g meaning;

The world is full of failure and all will die,

However, those whom realise this needs intervening.

One day, I might get out of bed and achieve my dream,

My want, my desire, my aspiration,

To ultimately die afore the tears start to stream.

Reviews

[𝔸ʂɾıéli໐ຖ Ş..]

depression is a terrible disease that consumes hope and meaning, leaving nothing but emptiness- I could sense the drowning and desperation to find a reason to act (be it to live or die). i like how you expressed this struggle

just a correction for the third line "And what i would so much *rather be..."