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i am

september 8th, 2023.

By daphne grayPublished 9 months ago 1 min read

I am appalled by what I do to alleviate the pain.

My hands always smell like smoke.

My stomach always hurts.

My brain is always foggy and then not foggy enough.

My smile is growing faker, even though I never mean it to.

I am avoiding and regretting.

I am people-watching and hoping.

I am always late and always in a hurry.

My moods are a tower of cards and I can’t stop picking my nail polish.

My heart is always racing, and I am actually worried as to why.

I am busy, occupied, sorry I can’t make it. Next time. Sorry, I am busy, occupied, I can’t show up, maybe next time.

I am tired. I am always tired.

excerptssocial commentarysad poetry

About the Creator

daphne gray

just a girl in this world who thinks a lot and writes a lot and some of it makes sense and some of it doesn't. enjoy nevertheless.

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    daphne grayWritten by daphne gray

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