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Twenty-seven
Twenty-seven goose bumps line my arms and legs
 but I am stuck here
 No need to utter a soft goodbye
 because I keep banging my head into apologies
 that should never exist in our world
 
 If he had watched over me
 
 You wonder why I lock myself in my room, 
 trying desperately to listen to the silence
 but it doesn't live inside my mind
 
 You wonder why I conceal my work of art,
 with baggy sweatshirts and long sleeve-tops
 but you never ask
 You never ask me how my day was
 even when I let you drone on about yours
 
 You never wanna hear about my passions
 you just ask me to quiet down
 You never wanna listen to my cries
 even when the reason for them is fatal
 
 You wonder, but you don't want to know
 why I'm starting to let go
 why twenty-seven goose bumps line my arms and legs,
 but it's almost ninety outside
 and in the sunlight I feel a sting
 
 My depression is mine to suffer in

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