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Duct Tape

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I
I just
I just don’t know
I just don’t know what
I just don’t know what to
I just don’t know what to do in order to feel
To feel better.
I feel an open hole in the center of my chest
Throbbing, oozing with rejected love.
And I want it to stop.
I want to to stop hurting now.
My tears keep coming at odd and random
Times.
Everyone thinks they can fix it
They think they can fix me
But.. I highly doubt that they can.
Because it’s been sixteen years in the making.
Sixteen years of
being ostracized
because I peed the bed when I was little
or because I stuttered when I read in front of class
or because when I was at my worst,
I couldn’t see my toes over my huge mass of self loathing.
Because I choose to not believe in an idol
And because I listen to music that others don’t.
Because I had lice when I was little
Or because I have a keen sense of responsibility
thanks to my mother and her three jobs when I was younger.
“B-b-boticelli”
I hit the buzzer
and everyone on scholar bowl laughed at me.
and still laugh at me.
Sixteen years
of being called a big oaf, a giant
because I’m 5’11”
Sixteen years
of being ignored and hurt by the words of others
And..
no matter what
I always absorbed everything
And I’ve always been so nice to everyone else.
I’ve always thought about what I say before I say it
And I’ve always been there for everyone who needs me
I just feel so broken.
Think you can lend me some duct tape?



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sarah98 said...
today at 7:00 pm:
I completely understand; i've been there. Beautiful poem, it made me cry. 
 
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