Depression

Another useless morning dawns,
Another tiresome creature yawns.
Lost I am in the depth of thought,
People can't  see the battle I've fought.

My scars are hidden by a harden face,
No smile has been found, I have no grace.
I look upon the work I've done,
And find that it is helpful to all of none.

I hate the flesh I'm bound to,
The words I weave I do but rue.
Rueful and spiteful I wish to cry,
But no tears will help me on the inside.

Who will help me to live without pain?
Will anyone try to keep me sane?
Am I lost to the grave?