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Depression

in the forest where the phantoms seek a supposed aftereffect of a tear flavored weep I will choose not to endure under the eyelids. nor do i need a shelter. and the preacher talked about a pressure pressure…….. pressure…… pressure….. by celine charcoal

Depression

Depression is a silent forest, blanketed in fog. It sounds like the monotonous drumming of sleet on a window. It tastes like bitter black licorice. It smells like the sterile perfume of a nursing home. Depression feels like falling into a bottomless black abyss.


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