Gone

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Sometimes I just feel so empty,

Like all feeling has left me.

Inside there is nothing there,

Nothing to see and nothing to share.

I don't understand what is going on,

Would it just be better if I was gone?

Gone from this world or gone from myself,

Seems like everyone's put me on a shelf.

A shelf to limit the problems I create,

Though it increases depression and self-hate.

I spend my life wishing I didn't have one,

And hoping it'll all be over soon.

Or has the pain only just begun?

I'll just put it this way: I won't be here this afternoon

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