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Click hereSick of this life,
sick of this town.
Same old illness
I keep coming down.
Same old desire,
same restless feeling.
I need the release
that a needle gives me.
I'm still searching,
searching for something.
Looking all over nowhere
for an emptiness to fill me.
I tried to understand,
I tried to believe.
Followed you to forgiveness
that still refused me.
Same old chances,
same old mistakes.
Bound to this existence
by the choices I've made.
Sick of this life,
sick of this town.
Same old illness
I keep coming down.
I feel your misery. I try to enjoy life but it's hard. I enjoyed this because I can relate. Thank you for sharing. :)
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
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Here's a piece with a little blue W from way back in 2001, sounding like Zoloft is called for to combat some serious depression.