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A Poetry about Manic Depression

If only I couldGet up,make my bed,Raise the blinds,withoutfeeling otherworldly hefton top of my chesthands wrapped around my mouthand nosemaking me gasp for air,and life. If only I couldGet up,Do my hair,Take a shower,withoutbeing bogged down by the shackleswith weights attached to them,dragging my existence downlike the soap and scum that’sbeing sucked into the drain.Continue reading “A Poetry about Manic Depression”

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