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STIGMATIZED I rode the "short bus" all the way home as depression hovered like a dome. It whispered my name, silencing all. How could they hear echoes of my fall? Every seat occupied yet alone. Just a little kindness, they could pay. Smiles of mockery shined on the bay, caressing stigmatic stones that hurt, when thrown like blades within words they blurt. Help Support the Fight Against Mental Illness! https://urlzs.com/S5fPd |