Depression

Sucking out the light like a black hole feeding on entire suns in one breathless gulp
An echoing, screeching sound that threatens to pierce the eardrums like a million tiny Pickaxes
Painful and bitter to the taste, like gunpowder soaked in honey
Enveloping the air with the sickly sweet smell of a rotting soul
A deep, chasmous tunnel filled with razor sharp rocks you endlessly stumble through, Pleading for the light
The feeling that there is no hope, nothing but the empty void you have become





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