Infected

I've caught an incurable disease,
one which ravages mind and body.

Hanging heavy in the pit of my stomach,
lingering making me nauseous.

It makes me itch, until I must
scratch to the point of bleeding to satiate it.

Every breath an unbearable burden,
leaving me no motivation for anything.

My mind runs in circles at it's urge,
struggling to understand elusive, feverish thoughts.

It leaves me depraved, of things
taken for granted. Depression.

The End

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