Prisoner

I am a prisoner to my anxiety and depression. Yes I laugh, but listen next time I do you’ll hear how empty it is. I’ve fooled a lot of people with it. Depression is the jailer, and anxiety is the chains, unbreakable. I sit in my lonely cell, and wonder. What is life like out there? Will I ever be free? I wonder all day, and all night, until the thought of thinking forces me to sleep on the tear stained pillows. No one knows. It’s ironic, they all think I’m a bad liar, if only they knew how good I was.

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