Stationary in this world.
The dead are among us.
Silent screams fill the night.
No one cares about me if I die.
No one knows what secrets I hide.
This world is strange to me.
The people are not like me.
They don't know what goes on in my mind.
Nor do they really care.
All they care about is the anger they cause people.
The despair they create.
The depression that is alive and full.
They don't really know anyone's feelings.
All they are doing when they put me down.
When they make me feel alone.
All they are doing is compensating for the lost feelings they no longer have.
The feelings of love they never got.
The feelings of being wanted that you all give to each other.
They never got.
So inside they feel.
Alone.
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