depression is a form of suicidal art
i wrote a different kind of text, were i said that depression is a form of suicidal art
it wasnt smart to say that part; for my heart
it hurted, but maybe it was a headstart, before i end up in my own graveyard
after this statement, i started to think
the black ink appeard
my thoughts began to shrink, with every word that i wrote down; with the black ink
it was the bitter taste of blood that i kissed, maybe it was a little bit missed
trying to resist to put a stemple on my wrist, that i have nothing in my life accomplished
i just wished that someone would have noticed this
the moment were i switched off and spilled the ink on the untold truth, that nobody wanted to hear
maybe it’s harsh from me to say, that i think depression is a form of suicidal art. i am romantisizing the thought of depression, suicidal art, because if we think about it, how will you ever be able to live with a sickness without turning it into art. turning something bad into something beautiful you could live with. that’s how i do it most of the time. it works for me, it helps me get through the things i can’t cope with in a normal way. changing my mindset and trying to see the good things in the sickness depression.
so i’ll say it again;
depression is a form of suicidal art
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