As my coal blacheyes glimmered I could
have sworn this gaze brimmed with grief
my repressed tears of ruby red rushes
swimmingly down each cheek only to fall
sadly to the floor my own reflection in
the mirror fools even me and this is what
people see on the outside the inside poorly
battered and beaten from many war torn
batttles hidden deep with my abyss

My depression does put scratches
on my soul and scars my heart I I
am wounded so deeply within the
abyss of my being my scars and scratches will heal
but my heart and soul will not
I trudge along slowly yet steady I know
my days  are numbered it is inevitable
I will die alone and empty I take it upon
myself and do away with me, myself,
and I

It is a strong possibility as I think of such action.