It Is (Depression)It is a shroud of black velvet.
It is the violent ocean in the dead of night.
It is the monster in the shadows; the Vashta Nerada.
It is the final crash of symbols in Carmina Burana.
It is impossible to lift.
it is impossible to breathe.
It is impossible to see.
It is the only thing that can be heard.
It is why the stars disappear at night.
It is why every light drifts by without stopping.
It is why the gnawing starts and never ceases.
It is why nothing else matters in the end.
It is my disease.
It is my disability.
It is my misfortune.
It is my death sentence.
ParanoiaAre they laughing?
Yes. I hear them giggling your name again.
If I turn around, will they be staring?
Definitely. You've always been a sight to see.
Will they want to talk to me?
And why would they? You can barely hold an interesting conversation for over three minutes to begin with.
Why don't anyone of them like me?
You don't even like yourself, child. Who would?
Is this paranoia tricking me again?
No. This is your life speaking.
Ghost of YouDown on my knees for you
Begging please stop
Picking the good out of me
Heaving on the floor
I need you
But you're killing me
I look in the mirror
My reflection beckons back
Who is she?
Someone falling through the cracks,
That you have made in her broken heart
Someone begging on her knees for you to shut up
Just a girl who wants to be beautiful
Just running from the edge
Into this world unknown
Finding nobody, but the ghost of you...