a collection from the emotionally disabled

A poem book.

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14. Overcoming My Limits (movella)

I was empty… abysmal.

There was nothing left of me.

I couldn’t hurt;

I couldn’t feel.

 

I knew the days were passing by,

but I didn’t know how many.

Everything seemed to just blur together,

into one enormous mess.

 

Am I even alive anymore?

It sure doesn’t feel like it.

After all, I’m not living.

I’m just surviving.

 

l.r.

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