Gone

People with depression aren't really there anymore, are they?

Every day I wake,
yet I never rest.
I wander through my day,
with an empty ache inside my chest.
I cannot smile,
at the things I once adored.
With Muffled yelling parents,
and the sound of slamming doors.
To make them smile,
the one I wear is fake.
And I beg for them to see,
and find what makes me ache.
My eyelids soon grow heavy,
and my mind is filled with fog.
Yet I do as told,
like their good little dog.
Soon there is nothing left,
and I cannot go on.
I cannot smile, hate, or cry,
my emotion is all just, gone.