Depression - Poem by Bailey Schatte
Distant from the truth
Everything feels lost; following the
Path of serenity is not always the
Right thing to do.
Every ounce of hope has been demolished; the bitter
Sweet aftertaste of regret follows the accentual
Swallowing of desire, for
It is all just an on going
Optical illusion forced upon ones' life that
Never set out to succeed.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You