Wrote this in school, haha, ironic.
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Is there a reason
I suffer every day?
Is there a reason
My life is this way?
Always hiding
Because it's the only thing I can do.
Am I the only one
Or is there someone else too?
Can I get better
Or am I only getting worse?
Can I get through this quietly
Or am I going to scream myself hoarse?
Living in fear
Because of how I was raised.
Can I live to be old
Or is it the end of my days?
Can I stop the bad habit
Of making myself bleed?
Or is it insatiable,
An ever-lasting need?
I wonder if anyone would notice
That I had left.
Would they be heartbroken,
An ever-present cleft?
Or would my death
Just be ignored?
Another troublesome problem
Of the parents of an "attention-seeking whore"?
Would life cease to matter
To anyone at all
If I died today,
The end of the fall?
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-Kat
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My Poems [Completed]
PoetryThe creative writing of a thirteen year old going through her last year of middle school. Please welcome the author as she gives you a glimpse of her thoughts, dreams, actions, and just her life in general.