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Oct 2014 · 369
Vince Smith Oct 2014
Down the hatch, down the hatch
with that pill the doctor said would cure a mind,
of all thoughts of jumping off the bridge or an insecure time
a month has passed, ready for the next batch
antidepressants til the day you die,
for masking yourself is the way to get by.
you told yourself you'd be fine without them,
but one day, a week you feel the dark thoughts creeping up your brain stem
Oct 2014 · 236
Vince Smith Oct 2014
Hello, she whispered, flowing through my passages.
We meet again, they screeched at the top of their lungs, ramming into my chest.
Falling down, feeling like hundreds of feet tall, my knees never hit the **** ground.
Constantly feeling my lungs drop into my stomach acid, I can no longer breathe.
Stand up, stand, she shouts a little louder.
God, I wish I could my dear, but I've tripped and my feet are like sand.
I cannot stand, for I am not solid.
You'll see right through me and I'll crumple in your hands.
I thought I could save you*, my dear, you have.
They've always wanted me to destroy myself, but this time it's them who have destroyed me.
You've saved me from me, and I thank you for that.
This is a little rusty because I'm trying to get back into writing.

— The End —