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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #2044164
A poem from my more...self-destructive days.
For years, I've been trapped in my own prison of sadness. It’s kept me away from my field of madness.

Always moving from house to house, While at the same time, I've had many doubts.

I was a child with not much brain. I've caused my parents so much pain.

Destroying everything in sight, it’s safe to say I was not right.

In elementary school, I was stubborn and slow. I was weak, lonely and I've also let myself go.

I had so much work, and very few friends. However, I was protected, but I knew it would end.

After elementary and middle, I faced off with rage and stress. Multiple battles have led to much anguish and distress.

I've created freedom fighters that are meant to bring peace. Soon enough, they may be released.

A being that is covered with blemishes, and possessing stamina that slowly replenishes.

I’m a man of few words, a man of silence. I’m also weak, brainless and spineless.

This is who I am, every single day. I hope something will take me away.
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