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The private hell is construedfrom the warped inner truthverity gone as consequencein the landscape that grace forgot
The snake of life Curls around the corner Is it venomous? I won’t know Until I’m too far To turn back But I keep walking
To whomsoever that it may concern: I write this as a spirit looking back, Back, back, to you, and hope that you may learn
"Fuck." "I want to die," I say. "I wasn't supposed to let it get this bad again," I say. As if I have any choice in the matter. As if my brain isn't the traitor here.
Official diagnosis: Anxiety and Depression In Kindergarten terms, that means My brain won’t shut off And sometimes I can’t remember How to be happy It means that when I get home at night
Lately I am guilty of losing the little things:
Die Go away and say goodbye Leave this life Of pain and strife Feel the noose tighten around my neck Feel myself swing lifelessly from the balcony The snap of my neck as I die