It

April 28, 2008
By Miranda Shaffner, Minooka, IL

It comes in my room,
Jumps on my bed.
Always screaming and shouting
in my head.

When I get in a fight with it,
It always is the victim,
Acts like an angel,
But has eyes filled with venom.

Why me?
But not that?
I can't believe you would listen to the rat.

Sometimes we get along,
But the next thing you know,
Eveything goes wrong.

Even though we bully each other all day,
the fighting, in the end, will go away.

Because even though you deal with it,
Deep down inside,
You love it.


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