Like a ball,
Filled with black.
Roll it all you will,
Colours it will still lack.
You will smell,
Of social incapability,
It brands everyone affected,
With unending self-pity.
All you told yourself so far...
Is stupidly fake.
It's become an obsession.
For everything that you are,
I need to wake,
up from this depression.
© Copyright 2016 Ghonesis. All rights reserved.
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