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I wake up in the morning leaving home
The sky a smear of dirty latte foam
On the bleak horizon, and I'm already crying
And I wonder about the different degrees of dying.
I get to the office with shards of my heart
Gathering myself together so I won't break apart
Through the endless day, all the while I'm trying
To control what I know is just another degree of dying.
Strange how people look but no one really sees
Busy, focused, trancelike - a bunch of walking zombies
Stuffing emotions, hiding tears, muffling sighing
We disguise each of our various degrees of dying.
If we stop, we'd hurt... and we'd never catch our breath
So we fake it, knowing it's just one degree of death
Yet secretly we hope another hears, and ends our silent crying
To bring us back to life, and reverse each degree of dying.
Learn more about this author, Sue Northcutt.
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Poetry: Depression
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