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Feb 19
the flower  left undisturbed
by the bee,
but yet a part taken,
a part
stolen to
feed its wants,

you were like that,
coming in dreams,
never realized the destruction
until after the war.
Im so ******* done with feeling this way, I am so done with always begging and pleading with others to hold me, to love the soft tender parts of me, as if admiring all that makes art beautiful, this stupid society obsessed with youth, and money, and looks. How can I find myself, when I do not know who I am. I am stuck here fearing death, death of others, and aging, will I realize how beautiful the swaying trees were when I am 92? Or will I die tomorrow with unpublished dreams, unpublished aspirations, watching time eat away at my face. I want to be ok. I want to merge with god,  and I want him to cradle me and tell me he loves me and tell me I did ok, that I tried to find the good in others, that I was nothing special but I tried to find beauty, I tried to be kind, **** this **** this sm.
Written by
Mygreatestescape  18/F/France
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