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Why me?


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I’m cursed
I hate it.
I wake up every morning and wonder why.
People always stare at me.
I wish I never had it.
People think it’s good.
But it’s not like you think.
Every time you wake up
It’s a disaster waiting to happen.
Sometimes I wish I was somebody else.
What’s wrong with me?
Or should I say what’s not wrong with me?
My darn good looks.



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