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#cured
The wind May Say it moves me but I don’t feel moved. The People say they love me but I don’t feel loved. The Doctors says he’ll cure me but I don’t feel cured.
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Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 6:39 AM UTC
Looking for a cure
Pourquoi ça m’a arriver? Pourquoi j’ai reçu cette Miracle? Pourquoi pas les autres? Pourquoi pas quelqu’un d’autre? Pourquoi moi? Il y’a des gens beaucoup plus important que moi: Des enfants, Des mères, Des pères, Je ne suis personne. Ça devrait être quelqu’un d’autre: Le petit garçon qui cri pour ça mère chaque nuit, L’homme qui devient juste être père, Le Grand-père qui a tout ça famille entouré de lui, Pourquoi moi et pas eux? Je ne le comprend pas! Je ne peux pas exprimer comment je suis heureux, Mais au même temps triste pour les autres. Je veux reconstruire ma vie. Chaque jours est important, Alors je ne veux pas les gaspiller. Je vais les utiliser pour faire du bien. Je ne sais pas comment encore, Mais maintenant c’est ma seul objective de vie. Je ne veux pas que ça soit pour rien. By Coco 07
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:43 PM UTC
Un miracle
Find the blue bird of happiness Find it, and be cured A simple task he says, one of three I'm not sure what the next will be But he'll tell me He'll tell me..
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Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 1:37 PM UTC
The Blue Bird of Happiness
I haven't been so sad recently, which is rare. I had the bad five months last year- to the point I nearly killed myself. And now I'm okay, but then it makes me think; I'm not acting how I should act. I don't feel like me anymore. I'm bored, I don't cry so often, I feel like I'm wearing new shoes that are slightly too small, to the point they rub but don't leave a mark. I think it's because I got so used to being let down, that my body automatically drops me a few stories every couple of weeks. My eighteenth birthday was bad. I think I just gave up on birthdays and to think they used to be my favourite. Now, I spend my time doing what is asked of me; go to classes, smile, do work, go home, do homework, sleep and not dream. It feels weird. I don't feel like me; I want to feel like I'm dying again, like the world itself is crumbling beneath my feet, that, if I smile or move a muscle, my whole being would explode; shattering thousands with reminders that I was here, because now I feel empty. I'd rather feel like death personified than nothing at all.
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Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 7:41 PM UTC
What Happens After I’m Cured?
It doesn't have to be healthy, Only street corner poison; Teeth marks, Maybe something broken. It's not about what it is, But what it leaves. The quiet skin beneath your sleeve, The choir that sings in your sleep.
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Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
Lovely Things
Nobody likes me, I may as well make them all eat worms... Where once there was ridicule, now there's just silence. Everybody hates me.... But now there no longer versing, now its just me rehearsing my tears for there funeral.... Once is for sorrow twice is a rehearsed verse third times the charm.. No one will know, that I'm the one that silenced there verse. Once they spoke, twice they made me cry, third time I cured the disease... I'm happy now that I can sit quietly, I'm smiling now that words are dead. ill sit here in silence, And absorb the silence of there passing..
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Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
When The Bullies Were Silent