There are two kinds of people in the world:
the blamers and the blamed.
I’ve always fallen in the latter.
I can never find anyone who understands.
God is my only company in these lonely years.

How many people can say there are things
they’d never tell their BFF about?
Secrets fill my head, voices speak to me.
I tune them out.
Depression tries to sneak back in, but I know better.
That door is bolted shut.

My eyes are a barren desert,
waiting for the floods to come.
I guess I’ve adapted to these harsh conditions;
one might even say I’ve evolved.
The damage is permanent,
irreversible.
For now, I can only ease the pain
these lonely years have left behind.