Random Poetry

/ Am I normal or am I different?

How much can I share, how much can I hide?

Does anything matter, does it even exist?

/ How is it that in a room full of people I can feel so alone?

/ Depression is that form of mind

That creeps up in your darkest hours

Devours the good thoughts it can find

And locks them away in high bleak towers

Turning everything to a shade of grey

Hopelessly, you wonder if it's worth it anymore.

Until you cry away the day and curl up on the floor.

The End

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