Poetry

Things

“They don’t seem to get any better,” I cry out deep within.

Feeling like an outcast in my closest circles,

unable to grasp the concept of “relationship” building,

I have labeled myself as a loner.

 

Feeling pain in every word spoken to me

Finding it difficult to keep my head held high,

I have labeled myself as weak

 

Feeling like the world is against me,

Unable to find joy in my “perfect life”

I have labeled myself as selfish

 

Among all my self inflicted wounds created by these labels; broken. cursed, petty, un-pretty, I find my sense of purpose, a shoulder to lay all my burdens upon.

Some say He is pure fiction, some say He is the reason we are all here, to me He is my blankie, the one being keeping me alive.

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