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untitled . depression

each cut is equip with much emotion.
In thought, I suffer in silence.
There is a war in my mind.
Its so loud but you can't hear a thing.
Slicing sounds and pounds to the wrist and pounds off my hips
mushroom trips and the red it drips to my finger tips
and onto the floor
i cant be here anymore
Ive been here for days
but i cant get away
from these thoughts in my head
and this bed
i cant feel awake
no matter the caffeine intake

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Comments

  • The Devil18
    October 28
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    this is good i love the title and the poem nice work