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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Family · #1747206
I get it. You want to be like me. But don't be me.
I wish something was left for me, myself, and I.

Selfish maybe,

but the truth.

The power of the knife against my skin once dominated who I was,

how I dressed,

who I pretended to be.

But you took that away,

making it your own,

doing it better than ever I could've thought of.

The power of the stage rules who I want to be,

my outtake on life,

my passions in life.

But you've entered that world,

becoming the teacher's pet,

twisting everybody around your little finger,

and I was left alone.

The power of words once acted as my therapist and my one thing.

The one thing that singled me out from everybody else in the entire school.

It's helped me heal,

helped me gain friends,

help given me a firm path I know I can act upon.

Yet there you go again,

stealing my only spotlight.

Words coming from your mouth as delicate and creamy as a piece of milk chocolate.

This is my thing -- the one you'll never take away from me.

So go ahead --

take my friends,

my passions,

my talents.

Use them for your own good.

I'm keeping my words to myself,

for my mind is the one thing you can never have.

© Copyright 2011 amelia16 (agentliz007 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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