antidepression
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What do I look like in a room of others thinking, thinking out of this world?
No one even notices me, I past by and I get a glance if I'm lucky
I feel gold though,
I'm not one to write
I don't do poems
or songs
I dont have a diary
I rarely speak about what's wrong
I bottle things up
So deep till eventually
That cup
Overflows
Over throws