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Temper

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
There is no perfect way to describe what I am feeling.
I have heard so many comments about myself, I am starting to agree.
What I can be is what they don't see.
I've lost friend after friend.
It's always been the people I thought would be there to the end.
I cry to myself, but everywhere else I tend to hide it.
My most cherished talent is all that remains; Wit.
They've shredded my heart.
They've tore me apart.
I'm broken.
My mind is unspoken.
I wish I was something.
Something, Anything.
I wish I fit in with the crowd.
I wish my self-negativity wasn't so loud.

So, here is to the people that have broke me apart limb by limb, torturing me to my death.
I will never forgive you, not even with my last dying breath...
My temper is about to explode.
My heart remains to carry a load.



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