War Against Myself

Author:

Depression in Me

A woeful night it is

The weary little lady is not in ease

For her there's no days only nights

Hope is out of sight.

Tears keeps on falling

Like a river water flowing

Her pale white skin

Makes the mark after wound seen.

Paradise is what she see

On that rope hanging on a tree

That pushes her to feel

What is happiness without ill

A battle with no swords

Only sadness and hurtful words

A war where there's no enemy

But an excruciating depression inside me.