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Melancholy Jan 2019
Each passing day
Is like a dream
And not in a good way
Like you think it may be
Dream as in blurry
Like your eyes when you cry
Muffled sounds, numb parts
As if you're on drugs
My brain is getting foggy;
I cant write. Stop.
The voices are saying I'm not good enough
The voices are yelling, they're deafening now
They're saying I'm crazy
What are you on about?
You're ugly, and stupid.
They can see it from afar.
Nobody likes you.
You're not how they are.
You're weird and you're sad.
You often get mad.
You lash out the most,
At the ones you love.
That's why they leave you.
Please, just shut up
I'll always be with you.
I am you.
Well, ****
The "Self"

— The End —