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Rated: E · Letter/Memo · Emotional · #2150171
Thoughts of social anxiety, minor depression
Dear You,

I don't know who you are, only you do.
I bought new shoes today, but they don't fit
         my feet, only yours.
I wake up to the great days, bright skies, no worries.
I read your messages,
         and then it hits me.

Do you, mystery person,
         just say what you think I want to hear?
         say things that inadequately try and
                   give me hope?
Do you call to procrastinate yourself
         and see me as wasteable time?
Do you realize when I say things,
         I mean them?
                   Do you ever mean it?
                             Do I mean anything?

About the shoes...
         Take a walk in them.
                   Answer all of the questions.
                             --because, mystery man...
                   I don't need you to identify yourself...

If the shoes already fit.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2150171