Poem #182

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They said I was too much, so I became none but the voices in my head still tell me I'm too much. I think that they like when I'm quiet when I never have much to say they say the new version of me they like so much better so why would I ever be a different way. They call me pretty when I'm quiet say my lips look so good when there shut, they tell me silence can be so peaceful but they never seem to shut up. I think they like my presence not really what I have to say they like the way I make them look but only when I look a certain way. They treat me like an object but at least I'm being treated some way.

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