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On Turning Eleven
The whole idea of it makes me feel
like a broken toy.
No life, no love, nothing.
All dreams gone
any that were there have faded
leaving a lonely girl behind.
I wish she didn't treat me this way.
Sure, we aren't true family,
but you can still love me.
Don't you see?
That's all I've ever wanted.
Love.
I thought you did, but now I know,
you don't.
I feel boxed in
when you yell,
call me names, and
talk bad about my family.
Why can't you be loving and caring?
Like you are with your own children.
Just because I'm not your true blood,
Doesn't mean you have to kill me inside
to make your family whole
without me.
Then you leave me,
rotting and broken on the ground,
feeling all powerful,
because you broke an eleven year old
down.

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