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dame un poema sobre la depresion en ingles corto y que se vea hecho por un humano
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GPT-5 mini
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Some days the sky forgets to open,
and I move through rooms with the lights turned down.
My chest is a drawer of used-up words,
my smile a small coin I keep spending.
Still, a stubborn pulse ticks beneath the dark,
a tiny clock that refuses to stop.
and I move through rooms with the lights turned down.
My chest is a drawer of used-up words,
my smile a small coin I keep spending.
Still, a stubborn pulse ticks beneath the dark,
a tiny clock that refuses to stop.
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