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I sit alone; insecure and silent. I am not who I want to be. My fingers tremble, empty and frightened, The world surrounding seems worry-free. And I feel cold and lost and unnoticed; This is not how I wish to live. Trapped by their confidence- my enemy, I feel I have no good to give. Joy and laughter is what I see: but me, I am unhappy with my life. Haunted by abuse, panic and anger, My soul's one friend is blood and knife.
0
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
Song of my scars
I sit alone; insecure and silent. I am not who I want to be. My fingers tremble, empty and frightened, The world surrounding seems worry-free. And I feel cold and lost and unnoticed; This is not how I wish to live. Trapped by their confidence- my enemy, I feel I have no good to give. Joy and laughter is what I see: but me, I am unhappy with my life. Haunted by abuse, panic and anger, My soul's one friend is blood and knife.
Written by
American
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 11:59 PM UTC
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