Thoughts of a Depressed Teenager

Many people fear death, as do I.
But living does not cut it either, and so I decide to just slip by.
I go under the radar, unseen by all.
And while I try it smile through it, my bravery is quite small.

I try my best to eat and talk.
But the demons choke me, making me suffer around the clock.
You are a loser, they say. No one would want such a freak!
They keep hounding and hounding, until I am the weakest of weak.

I want to complete my work
But my hopelessness wins over, making me go berserk.
I want to scream and shout, I want to dig my grave.
But my fear doesn´t want that, that's not how I should behave.

I have to be perfect, that is what everyone expects.
And while I want to say that I cannot, I cannot be direct.
I merely look at them and grin, nodding my little head.
That is why they do not believe, my lie has them misled.
Still they could be gentler, more gracious and kind.
Even if I am not perfect, should affection of me be declined?
They seem to think so, which saddens me even more.
But I cannot say even a small little squeak, much less an uproar.

And so I am trapped in a vicious cycle.
The most basic things turned into somber tools of survival.
This is my life now, endlessly suicidal.
My deepest fear of death acting as my only living bridle.