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Aug 2013
Nobody understands;
no one really gets it.
"Oh, but,
I really understand."
A little scripted line, they say,
to keep all the sympathy away.

No one comprehends it;
you don't understand the smothered feeling.

I loathe what my fingers touch,
I hold my heart in contempt.
I realize these things spread like vines,
from my finger tips, to my arms,
and sinks in my eyes.

Its only slowly consuming,
the color I hold to my skin.
A little pretty poison that
taints my whole, from within.

I've seen an empty river,
and I've seen a draining sea.
I could doodle each little feeling,
to help you understand,
but such liars don't get it,
they push my deeper in the sand.

"Oh, just forget it.
Don't be like that."
Such people don't understand.
That's whats mad.
That people can lie,
and fool you like thieves.
But I could never lie, like that,
I am not like you.

Please, don't try to get me.
Don't try to understand.
Alyssa Rose Naimoli
Written by
Alyssa Rose Naimoli  New York
(New York)   
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