I was never good enough, for anyone or anything I touched.
Subjected to oppression, I fell into depression.
My existence is a mistake, they proclaimed so much.
We didn't know how to express, so we rely on suppression.
Longing for unity that I can never obtain. So I had to strive past my developing depression,
Lying to myself I am normal, by keeping my life busy and sustained.
So I won't fall into my delirium, an onto my mission.
My psychological problem was never solved.
I let myself get overseen by those who hurt, overwhelm me with duress.
And submitted myself in their wishes until they got bored.
I was told everything was my fault, so I wrote in pen, “I am sorry.”
Year after year, I sought for their forgiveness. Why are they so scary?
Now I don't even have napkins for the tears that I cried.
Away from everyone that I loved, please don't kill me, my depression.
701 S. Abel St.
Milpitas, CA 95035
Categories: depression, Raymond Chen
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