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Dec 2014
If there is one thing I dread its sympathy,

I don't want you to tell me that your sorry,

Stopping me from edging little steps up,  

And pushing me, in one single crooked motion,

All the way to the ****** ground,

One thing is to miss a step and fall,

Another is to be purposefully pushed down.

I don't want you to steal glances at me,

When essentially you think I'm not looking,

I can see, in your watchful eyes, the lines of sadness,

I can hear your conscience silently judging,

Sorry to break it to you, but it is noticeable,

So much misery is not impossible.

I don't want you to promise you will help,

When you walk forward and never return,

But then again I'm none of your concern,

So why do I seem to be a main attraction?

I know I'm not perfect,

Far from with my bountiful imperfections,

But sympathy never will be compassion,

I do not want your pity.
Written by
RainyWriter  A place only I know.
(A place only I know.)   
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