I'm not depressed, but I was
I look back at the pain, the heartache, the family drama, the lonely feelings, and the emptiness; I'm crying again
Scars are torn wide open today, and the blood on my hands has seeped from my veins to my palms and down my gnarled digits.
My mother could be dead any day now, and I'm moving in a month or two
The old wounds have come alive, as I sit here with a head full of smoke. Too thick for me to see, and I'm choking.
