Depression

It slowly kills its victims.
  First taking over their body,
  then slowly making their souls decay
over the years.
They stop leaking with any
  type of feeling.
They lock themselves up in their rooms,
  keeping the whole damn world out.
They take razor blades
  and drive them across their flawless wrists,
watching the blood spin down the drain.
They stay up late,
  staring out their windows with blank stares,
wishing that they could be left alone
so they can just rot away in their invisible coffins.
                     They're enjoying the suffering...
But soon they just end up in a mental hospital
  or their very own grave,
                          rotting away like they always wanted.
        So many people are attacked by this,
                                            like me.
                                            I was one.
                                            I may always be one.
But.
   I don't have the scars,
                          or the wounds
                                        to prove it to you.
   I have been a victim.
   I am a victim,
                 that's still trying to get away
                         from this mental beast.