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And there lay the book’s ripped pages Now stained blood-red Jingles and rivers of thoughts Fills my busy head I throw my words, But they sink and fall like a rock And through everythig, They continued to mock “I’m sure you got a hundred, You’ll be fine” When all I really got was a 99 Yet I knew that was enough And apparently others thought that too But it wasn’t enough Too show how smart I was as proof Because in reality, My mind is never still Through the thoughts of worries and stories Continuous headaches Solved with anything but advil The feeling of defeat Is a daily routine for me As nothing makes me feel better The comfort The Marks They all hurt me.
0
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC
Marks
And there lay the book’s ripped pages Now stained blood-red Jingles and rivers of thoughts Fills my busy head I throw my words, But they sink and fall like a rock And through everythig, They continued to mock “I’m sure you got a hundred, You’ll be fine” When all I really got was a 99 Yet I knew that was enough And apparently others thought that too But it wasn’t enough Too show how smart I was as proof Because in reality, My mind is never still Through the thoughts of worries and stories Continuous headaches Solved with anything but advil The feeling of defeat Is a daily routine for me As nothing makes me feel better The comfort The Marks They all hurt me.
BoggotheBogg
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Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC
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