I don’t want
to be this person.
Days go by
and I only worsen.
Retreat into
my lonely shell
to try to
escape
this living hell.
Wish that I
was someone else
so I don’t have
to relive this mess.
Wake up
each morning
without a smile,
knowing
what I do
is not worthwhile.
The 50 year old poet 
I hear you.
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Exactly the words I wanted to use.
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