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Apr 2014
I hate having these secrets to keep,
I hate having these thoughts not to speak.
I hate holding back tears,
For the only reason I do, itself, is fear.
Silent judgments rain upon me,
Blinding my vision,
No longer clear do I see.
So ****** do I feel in my own skin,
But I tred so careful, rarely do I sin.
Though here I am questioning my own being,
Am I selfish? Or was I mean?
What good do these deeds, kind they are, do for I?
How many mistakes can I make, or lies can I lie?
How long must I hold up these walls?
Wish do I, for the weight on my shoulders to fall.
I've burnt bridges, but they still try to cross,
Those demons still haunt me,
Always invading my dreams,
Laying in bed, I turn and I toss.
But even in my darkest times, I think of you,
I think of what you said, how much of it was actually true.
These wounds you gave me,
Are all that I need to set myself free,
Of your grasp on my throat.
To sink or swim,
I'm still unsure of my fate,
But for now, only in my dreams do I float.
Blythe Barrymore
Written by
Blythe Barrymore  Portland
(Portland)   
407
 
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