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You
He is something else. Something beautiful. Something clean. Something that shines with uniquity.
I am the one who
feel your love limit to sky

And

I am the one who proved
your sweet lies !!!
 Nov 2015 Realeboga M
Megan L
You don't cry anymore.

So used to you is the sickness that is sadness

that tears don't fall anymore;

Eyes only cloud

and fingers only pick at each other

and as the monotonous drive drags on and on

you see the tough concrete wall and think,

"It wouldn't be the worst way to go.

Would be quick."

But you never quite do it

because you have parents you need to impress

and mothers to buy houses for

and most of all

you don't cry anymore

so it can't be that bad.
 Nov 2015 Realeboga M
ThePoet
A sadness I had

created for myself

that killed my

heart in the end,

was I never had you

to have lost you

and I can't blame you

for my pretend

©
Depression is like an ocean of demons, you have to learn to swim or they will catch you.
it's a battle against your own mind, no matter how hard you try they will come back to haunt you.
It's sleepless nights, tiresome day. Feeling numb, emotions go wild, but you always paint on a smile.
It's pretending everything is ok when really you're trapped in a hell you wish you could escape.

Depression is a cut so deep, you cover it up because you don't want people to see. Everytime you look at it you feel ashamed and weak.
Depression is being in a room full of people and still feeling so alone. It's feeling frustrated with yourself because you wish that for just one second your brain could switch off, it's wishing you could feel true happiness but it's been so long you don't even know what tru happiness is anymore.
What is depression?  it's an ocean of demons, if you don't swim you'll drown.
You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.
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