The Thoughts of the Depressed

It is hard to tell you what is wrong,
When I feel like nothing is right,
How can I ever be strong,
If I am never willing to fight?

Sometimes we just need to run,
To see who will follow,
A bullet shot out of a gun,
So very tough to swallow.

There's a smile on my face,
That shouldn't be there,
I wear it to my disgrace,
Just for those who don't care.

The only thing standing between me and glee,
Is reality,
When despair is all we can see,
How do we turn our back on brutality?

Yet you still wonder,
Why I am never happy,
The answer is my blunder,
You know I always feel crappy.

I'm tired of trying,
Sick of crying,
I know I'm smiling,
But inside I'm dying.