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Corpses cannot feel, for they are nothing but a husk,
a pale imitation of a former self,
what gets left behind.

Perhaps I am a walking corpse,
animated, maybe,
but not alive.
Up is down,
left is right.
Nowhere to turn,
eyes blind.

Front is back,
light is dark.
There is nowhere to go,
trapped.
I absolutely cannot wait until I can leave this house that I am supposed to call a home.
Like a broken machine
my mind tries to shut down,
but the cogs keep spinning
round and round.

Completely overheated,
the oils run dry—
you overthink and worry
‘till one day you die.
If to sleep is to know peace,
I'll never sleep again
My mother once told me I was talented
She encouraged me, and told me to fly
But yesterday night, she whispered to self, "the only thing my daughter is talented at is becoming a disappointment."
shout-out mom.
They always think I'm dumb
That I don't understand,
I don't know what I'm talking about- I don't have a plan
I ask questions if I don't have a clue, so why is it assumed I don't know what to do?
I'm educated, I always got good grades
Why does everyone treat me like I live in a daze?
They double check me- every word that leaves my mouth, I'm never met with equal standing only others doubts
I can't vent or rant or cry or ramble
I'm only met with lectures on why my life's in shambles
All I needed was a compassionate ear
I should have long ago realized I'd never find it here
My knife
Once a gift
Now my tool
My blade
Once for protection
Now for relief
My razor
Once pristine
Now rugged
My knife
Once shiny
Now stained red on the edge
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