She's alive, :O

[laceblade]

I haven't written anything in the longest time....Lately I've floundered to put my thoughts into words. I don't want to be cliche, and I'm such a critical reader that it almost forces me to not write. But I was talking to one of my friends last night, who just encouraged me to just put what I'm thinking into words, and so I wrote this before bed last night. Well, the first half. The second half I wrote just now. Anyway, the purpose of this poem is basically to explain what it feels like when my depression really hits me. Because...I don't know, usually I don't really feel it, but sometimes it just mauls me. Anyway. I don't know if I like it or not yet, and I need a title.

Blackness engulfs me
and I feel violently ill.
I taste the blood
when anything touches me.
My sight is layered.
Past, present, intangible things.
I lay trembling,
clutching my face,
feeling my stomach clench.
I feel my body
cast into darkness
and I wonder how
to be whole again;
how to keep moving.
I can feel the knife wounds,
and any shifting on my part
rips them open again.
The scars are ever-bleeding,
and the pain is forever ebbing
and flowing.
I know hope
and faith.
Had I not these things,
I wouldn't be able to press on.
They allow me to keep going,
but they don't take the pain away.
Nothing ever does.