Depression

As the darkness spreads, you hate to remember you have no hand to hold onto.
The dull sensation of being swept into the unknown, the deep abyss.
Forgetting how you got there is the start, the middle and the end.
The guilt of not being able to get out is always with you.
The air that goes into your lungs is always ice-cold, and like a suction, the feeling of falling is expected.


AmeliaWhispers

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hand, air, depression, hate, hold, falling, abyss, sensation, lungs, guilt

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