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Thomas Yong Jun 2017
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The words stick like a glue
As it sinks into my skin.
The assumption are dire but true,
Ravaging the conscience to begin.

Deranged is what becomes of my piece of mind
As the guilt inexorably attaches.
Bonded to one's pride - my dignity is left behind -
And my self-esteem is left with cuts and scratches.

As the cuts on my wrist turn into scars and dry
My mother stares at me in fear of what else i’ll do.
I don’t know how to fight off the monsters that are locked inside;
They’re right under the surface trying to break through.      

Life seems insignificant, all sense of self-worth has died
And i’m merely hanging on by a thread.
Along with the people I know, my emotions are pushed aside,
To succumb to resentment, i’d rather be dead.

I failed to see it from the start
And it tore me open till the end.
It is time to burn whatever is left of those demons in my heart,
It is now time to make amends.
This poem was written as my Shared Stories Anthology 2017 entry.

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