Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
I found this peom on my old computer. It's something I wrote a while back, before I listened to My Chemical Romance. After reading it, it has shocked me to see how depressed I was back then, and I know a lot of people claim that mychem have saved their lives, but from reading this five years from when it was written, I truly believe they have saved my life.
Melancholy
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
You see, I always have this feeling, this feeling of sadness inside me, and it won’t go away.
Its sharp claws stab me everywhere.
I cry, my tears spill out, and I can’t stop them.
The sadness overwhelms me, and no matter what I do, it won’t go away.
Even when I know I have my family, my friends; the people who will always be there to help me.
It’s not enough to make the sadness go away.
It starts in the pit of my stomach, and each day it grows, becoming stronger.
Overpowering everything else.
I can feel it tugging on my heart, trying to pull it down into its depths of misery.
Trying to destroy it.
It scares me sometimes, as it puts thoughts in my head.
Thoughts that control my life.
Thoughts of loneliness.
Thoughts of death.
I never wanted to be that person.
The person who goes to a therapist, the person that has to get “help” for their feelings.
I just want to be normal.
I want people to smile at me, instead of shove past me with some sort of insulting remark.
I want people to say hi, to acknowledge me.
I want someone – anyone – to ask, “Are you ok?”
They all turn a blind eye.
They know I’m not okay.
They know I’m hurting.
They’ve seen the scars, but they don’t seem to care.
No one seems to care.
I’ve tried to help people, in order to gain happiness.
I’ve tried to better the world.
But the world is too cruel.
Every day we hear about death, murder, destruction – and we are shocked, for a small amount of time.
We carry on with our lives.
We walk past the homeless, without a second glance to their tired, pleading eyes.
We pretend not to see the sadness, we ignore it, so we are able to live our lives.
I don’t like the sadness within me, because every day I can’t think of anything else but pain and suffering.
Music sometimes helps, to mute the sadness – but it’s still there, it’s always there.
Eating away at every bit of happiness left within me.
It makes me feel worthless.
It makes me question myself, “What is the point in all of this?”
What is the point if, eventually, all good things come to an end?
What is the point if life doesn’t get better.
Melancholy
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
You see, I always have this feeling, this feeling of sadness inside me, and it won’t go away.
Its sharp claws stab me everywhere.
I cry, my tears spill out, and I can’t stop them.
The sadness overwhelms me, and no matter what I do, it won’t go away.
Even when I know I have my family, my friends; the people who will always be there to help me.
It’s not enough to make the sadness go away.
It starts in the pit of my stomach, and each day it grows, becoming stronger.
Overpowering everything else.
I can feel it tugging on my heart, trying to pull it down into its depths of misery.
Trying to destroy it.
It scares me sometimes, as it puts thoughts in my head.
Thoughts that control my life.
Thoughts of loneliness.
Thoughts of death.
I never wanted to be that person.
The person who goes to a therapist, the person that has to get “help” for their feelings.
I just want to be normal.
I want people to smile at me, instead of shove past me with some sort of insulting remark.
I want people to say hi, to acknowledge me.
I want someone – anyone – to ask, “Are you ok?”
They all turn a blind eye.
They know I’m not okay.
They know I’m hurting.
They’ve seen the scars, but they don’t seem to care.
No one seems to care.
I’ve tried to help people, in order to gain happiness.
I’ve tried to better the world.
But the world is too cruel.
Every day we hear about death, murder, destruction – and we are shocked, for a small amount of time.
We carry on with our lives.
We walk past the homeless, without a second glance to their tired, pleading eyes.
We pretend not to see the sadness, we ignore it, so we are able to live our lives.
I don’t like the sadness within me, because every day I can’t think of anything else but pain and suffering.
Music sometimes helps, to mute the sadness – but it’s still there, it’s always there.
Eating away at every bit of happiness left within me.
It makes me feel worthless.
It makes me question myself, “What is the point in all of this?”
What is the point if, eventually, all good things come to an end?
What is the point if life doesn’t get better.
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