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I’m sick of hiding every day I’m sick of crying every night I’m sick of not being me, being me to myself Sick of looking in the mirror and seeing somebody else I realised to be me I don’t need to know who I am But how am I supposed to be me if I’m afraid of what others will think Sometimes I wish we were like butterflies At some point of our lives we would turn into what we were supposed to be But what was I born to be? I’m not a she, I’m not a he Am I an ‘it’? Am I an animal raised to the slaughter? Am I a 'they’? Am I two different people? Maybe I am the Me I am to myself I am the Me i pretend to be.
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Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
A Christmas miracle
I’m sick of hiding every day I’m sick of crying every night I’m sick of not being me, being me to myself Sick of looking in the mirror and seeing somebody else I realised to be me I don’t need to know who I am But how am I supposed to be me if I’m afraid of what others will think Sometimes I wish we were like butterflies At some point of our lives we would turn into what we were supposed to be But what was I born to be? I’m not a she, I’m not a he Am I an ‘it’? Am I an animal raised to the slaughter? Am I a 'they’? Am I two different people? Maybe I am the Me I am to myself I am the Me i pretend to be.
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Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC
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