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An Overflow

My depression is overflowing again.

Each treadmill being squeezed from the pores of my body and collecting in a pool around my feet. Drowning them in an abyss of unhappiness, making me lose my footing.

Outside of my life at home, I miss the time when people couldn’t see me clearly. I miss the time when people saw only what I wanted them to see. I had become a perfect little liar, but now? I’m completely incapable of doing such a thing. People can see the unhappiness written all over my face, people know how hard it is for me to get out of bed and I hate it.

I hate it.

Why did I have to share those poems with them?

Nakedstreetkid out x

[Edit: supposed to be published in May]

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