Just Another...

A slave to depression.
Like a sick obsession.
It grows like a tumor and spreads faster than a rumor.
Who knows or cares?
Time is ticking slowly.
Picking wounds for blood to write a message.
I'm okay and you're okay.
Once okay I'm always okay.
Saying "Okay" too much makes the lie less convincing.
Why worry about me and the tears from my eyes?
I ain't sorry about the slits on my wrists.
I am alone.
This pool of blood will grow as my body turns cold.
Every minute I hold on, I'm still fading.
Now I start not caring what happens.
What's done is done.
I'm through and accept you've won.
You promised it get better after some time passed.
Every moment it's worse.
I'm not okay, please see I'm inching closer.
To a false solace and permanent solution...