You lift me up. You throw me down. You move me round and round by strings. You lift me high you hold me low. You take me places I don’t want to be or go. You make me laugh, you make me cry. You make the tears shead from my eyes. I do all I can yet you still hold me low. You think stooping down low is where I belong. You’ve broke my heart and made me cry. You’ve mended wounds left from before only to create new wounds once more. The pain burning again inside. Again the stomach boiling over and boiling out. Things I eat again not staying down. Feeling nausious and anzy at all I do. As I just sit her thinking only about you. Depression is being without you.
Depression Is Being Without You
