This is as killing as death,
The grim that will make the reaper ask for your breath.
What then is hope if fate is a fatal faith?
And what is the focus of Life if His focus is the gaze of heaven’s gate?
Look! The good looking might be looking good,
But deep down, depression dips in a misery mood,
Smiling but sliming; breaking by the edge;
The hammer keeps hammering… slay is the say of the sledge.
Puncture is the picture, broken is the lens,
Fracture is the future, the present is a mess;
Death is a sensation and that is the sense,
In other sense, the essence of life makes no sense.
Sweet sorrow; suit situation,
In fact, indecisive intuitions inclines infatuation.
This is it till he makes it to the bottomless pit,
The joy of murderhood, deceit where sadness sit.
Depression becomes a killer when it kills her,
All that kills are not death but all death kills.
Before you lay you for slaughter, know that, killing yourself doesn’t kill the ills.
“Depression is a nursing murder, slay the nurse! Slay the murder!“