Personal thunderstorm, raging inside.
Hurt, torn, painfully wounded pride.
Dreaming, hoping for that ideal,
Especially for me, it had such appeal.

Heart sick, angry outpouring,
Can’t help it, ain’t no ignoring,
This grievous insult
To my being, this end result.

Seething internal quiet turmoil,
Like a poisonous snake all in a coil,
Ready to explode and strike.
Is this what ending it all is like?

Gotta refuse to give in,
Does this black cloud win?
Only to darken my doorstep again.
Giving in to this depression would be a sin.

When do I snap and break,
Cut myself away from this ache.
They say “It’ll be better tomorrow”
Can’t be true, I’m too full of sorrow.

im sorry if this is true.. dont let it get to you.. it DOES get better.