depress-
sion
is
a
frag-
mented
po-
em;
mis-
leading
to
some
giv-
en
up
by
many;
but this
time
it's not
art rather;
it becomes
necess-
ity
when your
poems leave
you
to your
so-
li-
tude
like a
brokenhearted
woman;
leaving you
to rot;
except when
they have
K
I
L
L
E
D
me
they will
find my
corpse of words
shin-
ing
in the
faded sun
for all
to see
like a
train-
wreck
of sorts;
but it
will be
for-
got-
ten
like uni-
verses
before us
exist-
ing
to
de-
exist;
all there is
is fate
and i guess
luck, too
so pick up
the fuck-
ing dice
and throw it
all across your
doomed
Existen-
ces.