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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #1373716
Sometime after my dad's death.
Depression


What is wrong with me?
Where are all my feelings?
I've put them away, my friend.
They are hidden.
They're gone.

Will I ever see?
Reasons for my being?
Things just seem to come to end,
over-ridden
and wrong.

I try to explain,
but I just can't seem to.
Life just goes on, who cares why,
always living
in dread.

It seems so insane,
but then that's nothing new.
All things live and all things die -
never giving
just dead.
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