The Depression Cure: Death of Nothing

(The following is an angsty depressive poem I wrote when I experienced one of my first heartbreaks. It's whiny and stupid and honestly, no one should read it.)

A Death of Nothing

There’s a tiny trickle of blood

That flows from a stream.

It’s never ending,

Always flowing.

I trace it to its roots.

Oh!

It’s my heart.

Have I become so numb to pain,

That I can’t even feel my heart bleeding?

What creature have I become that

Something so grand as my heart

Can have such little meaning?

To staunch such heavy bleeding,

I must first experience more pain.

Digging my way through

I ripped out this small,

Little thing that means so much,

And safely tuck it into a box.

No longer shall I be one with the fools

So proudly wearing their hearts on

Their sleeves.

Now I shall have it under

Lock & key.

But somehow,

You managed to creep in

And open the box to my heart,

And soften it with your fingertips.

You held my heart so close to yours

(Or so I hoped),

And gave me a reason to be a fool again.

I couldn't but help the sigh

Of ecstasy that came when I

Was loved again.

And right when I was nearly rejuvenated,

You did something horrible;

You stabbed my heart.

While I lay dying and twitching

All I could say was:

“Why?”

And you replied:

“Because you are nothing.”

And your fair lips grazed my own,

As my last breath

Escaped my body.

You leaned back up, smirking,

Looking for your next victim.