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Sarah Spencer
Poems
Jan 2019
Depression
I hate that word
sounds like a disease
its completely blurred
oh just please
stop saying it
to be the crowd
when theres people who slit
their wrists
they scream loud
for anyone to listen
during the pain
they think hope is fiction
it winds through their brain
until they die
with a smile
and because of your lie
those bodies pile
Written by
Sarah Spencer
19/F/Indiana
(19/F/Indiana)
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Fawn
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sky-blue
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