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ⁿᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ : 𝘰𝘩 𝘯𝘰!, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢
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i hate this city,
i hate myself,
'cause I feel like there's nobody else
who feels the same way that i do;
they don't understand the way i want them to.
it's all futile, it's all pointless hell--
they don't see me scream and shout and yell;
if even porcelain dolls crack at some point, then
why can't i do the same way when
i can't take it anymore, again?
YOU ARE READING
[13] - adventures in misfortune.
Poetry𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰. original poetry i wrote at thirteen.