Depression
23 December, 2005
Author: EarthFire
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depresson rips through my heart like the cold sharp point of a dart every tear that comes fom me is like evey broken branch of a sickly tree as every heart beat draws closer to the end the pain of a knife becomes more of a trend as the need for it becomes stronger every day all these dark feelings will never go away |
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Christopher Daniel (205.188.117.65) -- Saturday, June 3 2006, 02:09 am its not bad |
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