I hate feeling like this.
Fatigued and unmotivated.
Cold.
The pain is numbing by centigrades.
Empty, weighty corpse.
Heart a little heavy.
Like being between death.
I’m sure you know.
Some get bummed out about being lonely.
We’re dying down about being.
Though I opened my window.
And the air beckons over.
I can’t remember what used to be true.
I can’t remember
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ninewhitetulips said:
I do know. You put it all so well. You’re a good writer.
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