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Depression. A Poem.

It’s the full battery on a phone that never rings, it’s the useless feeling that the summer sun brings when you have everything to do and no strength... just all the time in the world to drown and sink. It’s not that you’re unhappy, it’s not that you’re mad, it’s just that somewhere deep inside you’ve got a soul that’s sad. It’s never feeling justified and always being tired, it’s wishing you could be all the things you admire. There’s nothing at all wrong with your life and some days you wish you’d be faced with strife just so you could have a decent excuse for finally letting all your bottled up tears loose. It’s wanting desperately to dance and sing while being terrified of what tomorrow might bring. It’s sitting alone because you can’t explain why your soul is permanently burdened with pain. And your friends will think you’re just a drama queen so you’d rather stand firm without a shoulder to lean. It’s wanting to scream at your own broken heart ‘cause at least then someone would know that you’ve fallen apart. But you don’t, you keep quiet, you hold it inside the feeling, that is, that you’ve already died.

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