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Depression with love, my dear

By Peter Scott


I’ve read the books
I am near happiness
That is when
My lollipop grabs me
pulls me back down
I’m in the house every single day
Yet my candy
Sweet, full of juice that I adore
Turns on me
What brings me happiness is also
The harbinger of depression
All internal madness
Little things bother me
ŒJealous to the bone’ I fear
My loves are true
For the most part
I hang myself on pretty little candy
The slightest hint of them being human I despair
Get all eaten up
Not by the pretty candy
By my own workings
I am guilty
Guilty of merry suicide
Genocide to my joys
Not on purpose mind you
I love life
Girls too
I ponder, conjure
Waste my mind away for nothing
I dream, beam
Write nauseatingly
Lover riddled letters
Commitments aren’t permanent though
Shallow promises on the one side
A chess set and broken hearts on the other
Playing the game stinks
But I am enticed by the candy
I play for keeps
But everyone knows
Candy doesn’t last forever.




Scars Publications


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