disassociated

stripped

of my being

of my soul

drained of hope

dry and cold


months

they go by

and deeper

and deeper

i go


i'm alive

though

barely coherent

and disassociated

from what

is real


but what if

what I feel

is just

another voice

inside my head


wanting me dead.

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Look at me, bitch
Gonna feel good?
Gotta do what's right
And you're gonna feel: bad

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