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Flicking through old photos Since forever stashed under my bed Mum points at one of me Little, laughing And my brothers In colourful winter hats, Climbing white trees, A one of a kind cold day The brown leaves sing "Weren't you so cute?" To think Christmas is wasted on me now And I lie lamenting the happiness of someone long past My throat hurts at the effort of not just bursting out Crying Like a baby as I lose control In front of my own mother That wasn't me on that fence The little face swinging upside-down That was someone pure Locked inside me That was light on a piece of card I don't feel Like a person Anymore I'm a mish-mash Of random Things I am a split second That's almost gone I am traits, emotions, chemicals, hormones, electricity, fear, love, friendships Fading into a maelstrom of humanness Mounds of recycled carbon Made-up meaning Lost in fog Where I begin and end fades Into everything and nothing I'm the dirt in the ground The stars in the sky Something words can't describe
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
titled
Flicking through old photos Since forever stashed under my bed Mum points at one of me Little, laughing And my brothers In colourful winter hats, Climbing white trees, A one of a kind cold day The brown leaves sing "Weren't you so cute?" To think Christmas is wasted on me now And I lie lamenting the happiness of someone long past My throat hurts at the effort of not just bursting out Crying Like a baby as I lose control In front of my own mother That wasn't me on that fence The little face swinging upside-down That was someone pure Locked inside me That was light on a piece of card I don't feel Like a person Anymore I'm a mish-mash Of random Things I am a split second That's almost gone I am traits, emotions, chemicals, hormones, electricity, fear, love, friendships Fading into a maelstrom of humanness Mounds of recycled carbon Made-up meaning Lost in fog Where I begin and end fades Into everything and nothing I'm the dirt in the ground The stars in the sky Something words can't describe
This isn't really a poem. I feel weird and I just needed to write it down. Maybe someone else feels the same way. Well of course someone else does, there are over 7 billion people on Earth, but maybe you do
unnamedci
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Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 8:33 AM UTC
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