Puppeteer

He is me. I am him.

I'm in actor. I'm stuck forever. Everything you see is wrong. Everything I say, influenced by the bong. The inside is what no one knows. Everyday, people I love, become foes. You cant understand what I have inside. For what is inside has already died. I've been proved that I have no love left for me. That chance left, how is still a mystery. Never have I felt this alone. To someone everything I shown. Just to have it all tossed. Now my soul forever lost. I live in repeat. I've acquired the biggest feat. I could smile all day. I could care less about what you say. But I didn't start out like that. Now the fact I can't hits me everyday and hangs heavy on my heart. Somehow I push through to see a new start. Now I start to question why. Why is it fair I have to cry. Why can't I just find my eternal Peace. Because I don't want to just decease. I want to say I survived this. I wanna tell stories about my survival in this abyss. I wanna prove there is a way out. So we can stop wasting our breath to shout. People will never listen. So I must prove my vision. As much as I sit suffer. As much as life gets tougher. I shouldn't have to fold. I should be able to find my gold. My key to happiness in disaster. But the more I try he grows faster. Don't think this easy. Depression wants to take your body. It wants you to lose everything. He enjoys your crying. Your fear is his motive. Weakness is your love. Things can make you happy. But depression makes it crappy. He breaks down the possibilities. He destroys bright destinies. He only wants you dead. Don't let him squeeze in your head. So many possibilities from here. I would know because, for now and forever on, he is my puppeteer.