The Hunted: Sad Truth

The skies cried the day I was born,
a jewel of pain added to his crown.

A grave dug but filled up with disgust,
a shame walking on this bare earth.

A friend of despair and cold life,
the darkness and death walk by my side.

The wolves howl over my head,
I’m already and can’t be twice dead.

My bones crushed by the taunting words,
the light you throw is my living curse.

All the screams and suffocation inside,
this uncanny blood of sorrow never subsides.

The mask I wear is for myself to survive,
you still somehow open the wounds I left behind.

The world I live in has grey skies,
the happiness I seek is an illusion of my mind.

I feel you crawling under my skin,
the venom of inferiority you push within.

I walk alongside you man to man,
but you mock me as if I am a walking dead.

I’m the hunter who is hunted in your jungle,
like a carcass that rots and pounced by a scavenger.

There is nothing left for me here, no more,
the kingdom you created was never my home.

Image by Enrique Meseguer (user:darksouls1) from Pixabay

Synopsis: A short poem about depression. Misery, pain, and thoughts about death are some of the key components here.