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by M MEM Mar 3, 2006 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
I tell you to live, Call you for hours to make sure I see you again. I tell you to not cut, But I'm currently hiding my own wounds. I tell you to stop taking the pills, But I'm digesting 50 ibuprofen right now. Here I sit, A failure of my own words, Because no one has made me stop, yet.