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Once upon a time there was a mouse
It was a very smart mouse, yet forced to hide it
As it was seen as something unusual
Which was very bad in the mouse community
Because in this comunity, there were also cats
Some of the cats were nice
But some hurt the mouses
Unable to speak up, they endured the pain since the dawn of time
But a few young mouses decided to make a change
They made a costume of a cat
The cats believed them and befriended them
The mouses in disguise had to say bad things about the other mouses
Because they would get in trouble otherwise
Days, weeks, maybe even months passed and the mouses made a
Decision.
They showed who they truly are to the cats
Thinking they could trust them, because they were close
They couldnt be more wrong
And the young mouses died in the hands of their "friends"
Because they were different.
Not the best and not really a poem, more like a story. Interpretate it however you desire.
All adults were once children
There are no exceptions
And that's what's truly heartbreaking
Villians are made, not born
At least not always

Every angsty drug dealer
Every teacher
Every depressed poet
Every grave

When you see a homeless person
Do you ever wonder what their life has been before?
They were just a child
With hope
Hope which died along with their innocence
In every person there exists a child
He sat on the cold, wooden floor,
His only source of light a dim lamp outside
He was shivering from the cold but that didn't matter
As long as his words were given life

The quiet sound of the pen hitting the paper
The notebook being the only thing he owned
Yet so treasured
A portal to the past

Some pages were torn
Seen as useless
But so truly beautiful
As they gave character to the brown notebook filled with nonsense

Exhausted with his work
He fell asleep in the middle of a word
The pen slowly tracing a line down the page
Only for it to be found, another reason to shame the boy
For that he is different
Some of us start young (this one feels so unfinished tbh)
  5d Kaiden Lewis
Zee
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Maybe it's reality
Or maybe i'm just weak
I have no reason to paint pernament lines on my wrists, do i?
Other children work too, don't they?

That were the words of my dear mother
Who lulled me into sleep with pain
Pain caused by her boyfriend who despised me almost as much
As my differences

My house is not normal enough to be good
But not bad enough to be normal
At least that's what i was forced to believe since the
oh so perfect age of ten
Abuse can mess with your mind
Kaiden Lewis Nov 18
Evening
A small child walking through the almost empty streets
You know this child very well
Or at least you think so
The child always wears long sleeves
Losing their happiness along with their youth

A child with dead eyes
A child with the stare of an adult
Yet a weak personality
That could be crushed with a single word

They used to be the happiest child in the classroom
Yet now they sit alone
A freak to the society
Because they're different

Maybe being different is bad sometimes
It appears that not every child is happy
Kaiden Lewis Nov 18
A mother is not a mom
Nice clothes aren't consent
Abuse isn't discipline
Scars don't make you weak
Fake friends aren't friends
Forced acts aren't obedience
A child isn't a worker
Yelling isn't love
Art is not a waste of time
A woman isn't a cooking mashine
What you see might not be what you think
This one isn't really good, might rewrite it later
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