Depression - Poem by Annie Singh
it is a tire.
It make me go haywire.
I want to show those Preppies what's real,
to suffer with many ordeals.
I want those retards to know
the rush of pure blood flow.
A blade that slices their necks.
The depression that life wrecks.
The sorrow, the lust
the pain the unjust,
so many difficult thoughts.
To tell what happened or
to know what's what.
The world is spinning,
my blood is gushing.
The adrenaline flows,
where did I go?
The blood rushes to my head.
I realized then.....I was dead.
Comments about Depression by Annie Singh
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Annie Singh's Other Poems
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl