Black Tea

*This poem was written in 2016, when I was still super-suicidal depressed. I no longer suffer from depression, and it really is amazing how good I feel now. I am posting some of my old stuff so people know they are not alone and there is a way out….if I can find the exit, anyone can.

Sunlight is good but I ain’t seeing much I am rarely outside or doing anything such as hanging with friends cause I’ve lost most of them, I only talk to a few and little time do I spend outside of this camper I’m living in…I feel myself dying and I finally started crying…I didn’t cry for a while during this exile but some tears came today and I turned them away because they make my face stay in an ugly display of swollen eyes and cheeks and I get no relief from the acid rain pouring with overwhelming grief…and I hate how the grief is absorbing all of me andI hate that my blogs show only black tea which permeates my soul so frequently.I want to be happy, I want to be free of this depression so thick that my eyes cannot see anything good inside of me or in this place that I’m in and I hate going to sleep just to wake up being in the same place…I hardly ever go put makeup on my face cause there’s none to impress with all my distress…no one wants near such a fucking hot mess…and lately I wonder if I’ll ever be from under this thick dark black cloud, my burial shroud, which screams at me loud and it sounds like a crowd of monsters and demons and those of just treason without any rhyme and without any reason…I’m doing no pleasing in this horrible season which has lasted for years and stripped all my gears and made me the joke of all of my peers while they laugh and do cheers…I think many are glad to see me so sad and that makes me mad and makes me wish that I had died long before it got so damn bad.