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by rnicolex Apr 8, 2015 category : Sadness, depression / about depression
For my sleep has become a reckoning and I cannot recognize it's call I'm the immortal to it's senses that I turn my back on the sane I'm the walking dead the spirited without spirit My feet have fallen asleep but my hands keep climbing My mind is restless for the sandman's sand that I would drown voluntarily in his bag of tricks