Depression Poem by Annie Singh

Depression, depression,
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.