Ghost

I think we might need to stop and really think about where happiness is found.

Everyone hurts and it sucks. Is it all for naught or is there a reason?

Picking up where I had left off in A Conversation With Depression. Keep this in mind as you read: What I say has no quotations and what Depression says is in quotations

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Why do I still trust people when I'm constantly given reasons not to?

This is a poem about the death of my best friend. This is also true for clarity's sake

Poem on my lack of empathy.

What is home? Think about that as you read