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Static
Static, whether in front my eyelids or on a box screen tv
It’s drowning
To never conclude the ongoing thought within my head
‘Is this real?’
Blood, underneath my skin and yet closer to my hands than I have yet to comprehend
It’s pouring
Dripping down my skin and only to answer one thing
‘I am here’
Time, stopping and starting as if someone familiar holds a remote
It’s tiring
Known for not trying, when not able to do is frustrating
‘I don’t remember’
What can only be said in rhymes, makes up for what is said unspoken
Dreams fade quickly into another dream yet one may be in a waking state.
I will never know
My eyes open yet the feeling has a chokehold on my mind
‘Did that really happen?’
Pills, though I have yet a collection; on the contrary I have yet a resolution
It hurts
To know that my mirror may always stay defective
‘Who is this?’
Nothing feels right anymore
The static pulls me in for the second time this night
Will I wake up again?
Why?
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Mental Health has always been a struggle. No matter what, it can get worse or better; while each fight is different. They all can share the same thoughts.