Infected

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My mind is infected with thoughts of sadness and death and I contemplate death each minute.

Cold and alone sitting on the steps of my old life, just trying to escape. I may not mean much to you now but you meant everything to me. You don't even know my name or that I exist.

I love you but I'm bleeding and I don't know how to stop it. Why wont anyone help?

People are walking by, but not a glance towards me. Am I really that invisible to everyone. No one really knows me, not the real me.

Held down by heavy chain attached at my soul. I wasn't allowed to die, mother wanted me to suffer. I can't sleep anymore, the children are watching. Sitting in the dark and trying to find my way out when in reality there is no way out.

A small cut on the inside of your hand and the darkness is seeping out, thinking of freedom.

No it is not true, it was a lie. Its an infection.

Holding down on my soul dragging me deeper into the soil just making the cut worse.

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