I Battle Depression and Anxiety

Going, going, down the hole,
Where it stops I just don’t know.
Just when I thought I had reached the end.
I keep falling down; it was just another bend.
The tiny blade in my hand, releasing my pain,
Obeying that twisted little voice from my brain.
“Cut deeper, cut harder, cut faster it says,”
I have to obey to feel anything and my arm cries red
The number of scars, they grow and they grow,
Like some little army feeding off of that gruesome red flow.
I wear long sleeves to cover the scars,
As they get deeper and deeper, forming little bars.
I silently ask for help, but nobody cares,
As I sink into the darkness, that pit of despair.
What happens after life, I don’t completely know,
But that’s not what I’ll be thinking when with this last cut,
I go.