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Again. I sit in my room, paying more attention to my cat than my mom yelling at me for my grades. Again. They say I'm depressed, as if I haven't noticed. Again. I write away my pain in class instead of doing my work. Again. I will be in a plain beige room, cold scared and alone, getting scolded over and over. Again. They never listen, they say they do, but they never respond like they do. Again. I'm all alone with no where to go. Again. Again. Again. Again. Write it so much the word becomes foreign. Again.
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I love your poem
ReplyThank you so much,
I appreciate you. <3
Replyof course!
Reply