Ive been writing forever, a king on a throne, a jester thrown
and all because i wanted to be alone, but now if forever pass,
I look out now, through the glass, to face a forgotten past.
wrists and blood ever thicker, i look to god and pray it be quicker
but life has changed this is true, the scars have faded and now are few,
and I awake now to grasses dew, of forgotten legends true.
of my friends without clue knew what i was fighting though
through depression and some regression countless hours of
aggression not to mention.
so for these few and all do
this is a poem dedicated to you.
and all those with the struggle with countles