I once knew a boy who liked to draw
He would draw pictures that nobody saw
He didn't need a paintbrush, pencil, or pen,
But needed a bandage now and again
His art wasn't out in the open, shared and displayed,
And in order to draw his mentality paid
Then one day in winter he slipped and he slid
And his sleeves were pushed up, showing some that he hid
He looked down embarrassed, scared and ashamed
So I rolled up my own, and showed him my pain
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Depressing Poetry
PoetryI found out that writing depressing poetry is actually like a really good coping mechanism??? Like I wrote a few when I was having a panic attack in class and it worked like wonders anyways here they are sorry for anything that like flows weird or...
