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It, Depression

By Anonymous
In those quiet moments it comes to me,
creeps up to me from an unknown place
my innermost thoughts my mind it seeks to mime
my cherished reverie without hap to replace

in desperation I wallow in phantasms,
reaching I grasp for an unextended vine,
sucked back within by this murky chasm
all I hope for now is salvation divine

there are no more dreamless sleeps
words fail to give me avowal
my grip on reality slips
it is only a game played to a foul
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