Early Patterns

January 13, 2011
My creativity ripped apart
showing little of myself and more of others
I had no friends no one to trust only a pencil and paper
words of hate came easy while words of love didn't come at all
pain and frustration came next then depression
I fell far faster than anyone could have guessed
I let myself become a ghost the halls and the people in them blurring me out
I always had the sensation of falling till I hit bottom and had to climb out

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