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Mac
I need help.
I won’t show you that I do though.
I hide my sadness behind my smiles and store it deep under my skin.
If you ask if I’m okay,
I’ll look up at you with a childish grin and proudly say “of course”.
But hidden in the fog of my eyes, I'm dying inside,
And my mind is falling apart
Like a divorce.
I definitely need help.
I won't appear that way though.
You’ll find out one day…
But, by the time you find me,
it’ll be too late...

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I'm not depressed or anything. This poem is about Mac Miller and how everyone thought he was okay and then all of a sudden he just died.