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The random poetry I decide to write at 2am that ends up superrrrrrrr depressing, have fun reading this
Why am I not numb to it all?
Every day is like the last, so why am I crying over the expected?
Why does it still hurt me?
Why do I not want it to stop hurting me?
Once I become numb I won't be me anymore
I'll become a shadow of myself
And yet it still seems easier than existing as the true me.
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