This is a poem I wrote a long time ago and stummbled upon it today. Some of it is still true now and parts no longer are.
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I am alone,
even though you're all beside me.
I am an empty cup,
in the middle of the sea.

My words,
are letters sent to you,
but you only hear,
the echos rewritten.

I look in the mirror,
and see my enemy,
I am incomplete,
my imperfections crucify me.

I am numb,
'cuse there's no God with a plan.
I am dying from within,
an emotion that's been banned.

Subvert to their petilence,
my depression so cliche.
It never paid off,
remembering to pray.