The Lows

I’m sick of concrete ceiling skies
His tireless little alibis
The lows that come when I need to rise
The feeling that I’m out of tries

I’m wanting just a bit more luck
And wouldn’t hurt to have a buck
But mostly never give a fuck
Depression hit me like a truck

© Delia Ross. 2020

I’m moody and withdrawn. Therefore, I’ve been neglecting your blogs and friendships (and my life), I’m sorry.


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