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Sep 2021
There are mornings,
where my bed is a casket,
where I do not breath,
I do not see,
I cannot rise,
And I have no life to save,
to cry,
to sleep,
to be anything,
or any more of myself
For I am exhausting,
and I find stillness only in my death.
pmdd, ptsd, and seasonal depression is a rough combo at 6 in the morning
Slightly Lovely
Written by
Slightly Lovely  18/F/A small town in WA
(18/F/A small town in WA)   
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