Thirty-five

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A day has passed and you ignore me.

The kids at school laugh at me.

My mother cries every night.

The teachers stack more and more homework for me.

And I do them all. Why? It's not like I'm going to ever need this.

I'm almost dead anyways.

I feel weak, emotionally and physically.

The muscles that I had in my arms had faded.

 My skin has become a sickly shade, I used to be a pale creamy white.

Now I'm just grey, sickly grey.

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