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Poetry By: rigadoo

This is how I often feel

Submitted:Oct 18, 2011    Reads: 21    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


You've shoved me back into my nutshell.

You're thinking who cares, oh well.

But this is where I come to think,

Where I learned to dwell.

I dwell on things that aren't nice,

I start to feel cold, like I'm surrounded by ice.

Then a thought comes in that drowns out the others,

And it makes me want to cry for my mother.

Death creeps in, sneeky and silent,

I see so much, it's oh so violent.

You put me in here, without a second thought,

You put me in here, not knowing what you've wrought.

You've shoved me back into my nutshell,

Who cares? Why cry?

But you've shoved me back into my nutshell,

And left me here to die.


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