I cry
rivers and oceans,
of tears.
Stories are engraved,
permanently into my skin.
I can't help but notice you stare at me.
I stare back with amazement.
Your face looks calm and neat.
You look clean and almost perfect.
If you look at your eyes,
you can see the ongoing storms
of thoughts that are held within.
YOU ARE READING
In The Mind of Depression
PoetryA "book" full of poems, from a depressed child. These poems are just sincere words and do not (and will not) always make sense, so I antecedently apologize.
