deepundergroundpoetry.com
Depression Exposed
I cry, I feel, I hurt, I heal.
I still bleed when I’m cut.
Then why am I like a puppet,
strings cut, crumpled
on the pavement where
people pass me by as if I’m
trash to be picked up.
I still bleed when I’m cut.
Then why am I like a puppet,
strings cut, crumpled
on the pavement where
people pass me by as if I’m
trash to be picked up.
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