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May 2016
I write to express my grief.
The countless hours of intermission,
stuck in this purgatory-like place.
Looking for a way out,
of the self-diminishing,
spiteful,
neglect I push toward myself.
When I look in the mirror,
I pray people see the disgusting being,
that I see when I look there.
When I'm in public,
I hope to god,
a car would hit me,
someone would hurt me more.
When I'm alone, I look for more reasons,
to add to the list of excuses to **** myself.
Michael Rucker
Written by
Michael Rucker  Naples, Florida
(Naples, Florida)   
263
   AnnaMarie
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