Poetry for the Depressed

On the In

I have this blanket
It's just like me
Bright and happy on the outside
Black and depressed on the in
The tears that soak it are like me too
Disappearing after a while
The person lying underneath
I don't know who she is anymore
A fat bitch? Maybe a whore?
She wishes for something she can never achieve
What won't she believe
Gullible and fading
She loves to get away from her mind
Hates how it tells her things she doesn't want to be true
But it's hard to get away from something that's always there
Underneath her skin and hair
Lies a monster that can't be controlled
Eating away at her from the inside out
There's nobody else to blame but herself
That's why every night and almost all day she hides in shame
She pulled a gun to her head
Wishing she was dead
But stopped before she pulled the trigger
Because she started thinking of the bigger picture
She hated the fact that she was being selfish
A baby in the house
So instead she made blood dribble down her leg
She's still here
A shell with no soul