Giving up

January 23, 2010
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Everyday it’s the same thing.
I wake up at dawn
Sneak through the morning,
Slip through the after noon,
And survive the evening.

I sit at home,
And listen to the teasing and taunting.
Surrounded by perfection,
I am the imperfection.

Some of the things they say
Make my insides twist.
But I can’t reply.
I can only take in their words
And think of what I wish to say.

But I can’t take it anymore.
My mind is being torn apart,
And it’s the only escape I have.

So instead of enduring the pain,
I open the window quietly,
And slip into the icy night air.

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