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Crying, crying, crying. Looking straight at the barren white wall. My roommate was nowhere to be found, So I knew I could let it all out. But why, why, why Was I crying so damn much?
The creatures scream and shout, From the winter boondocks of my mind, Oh, the things they scream about; Their gnarly, needy hands, Desperately attempting to grip my fate and my future,
A is for Antidepressants, and they don’t work too well. B is for Better, a disguise that to my therapist I sell. C is for Cut, the red line I’ve wanted across my wrist.
"Rap right now," they say, always either excited or judgemental, and I refuse.
Swallow, swallow, swallow STOP A gray hue coats the surface of every object A drought in the mind Scene after scene after… Black and white spots