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Unspoken

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Unspoken
She sits in the back,
quietly.
You think she's boring,
you wonder why she never speaks.
But you don’t need to know; you want to know.

He fiddles with his fingers,
constantly.
You think he’s tripping,
you wonder why he’d even come to school.
But you don’t need to know; you want to know.

She hides her wrists with her sleeves
secretly.
You think she’s too pretty to be sad,
you wonder why she needs to feel pain.
But you don't need to know; you want to know.






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