Untitled 542

I live with Major Depressive Disorder and my poor little mind never strays far from the border of complete sadness or complete madness or both.

I am never too cautious with the words that I say.  I will fashion them into a knife and you’ll run away, which is what I really wanted, anyway.

People to me,  are nothing but knives, sharp, pointy daggers that drip with their lies, they come to me dressed in their good guy disguise to trick me into trusting to bring my demise.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s