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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Written in 2/28/18 it was a point of mental state I was in a sufferable and low self esteem.

Submitted: March 22, 2018

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Submitted: March 22, 2018



He sat in the corner 

In his cage he wept

The cruel rusted bars 

Kept all tears with none swept 


Misery it was 

Cruelty it felt

Though he couldn’t ever die

He was stuck without ever help


The purges of pain 

Surged through his frail body 

It tossed him down to bruised metal floor

Where the blood had lay before 


Pools of moist goo

Lay upon the floor

It stained through 

Making tinted floor


That never could stop 

The pains always sore 


His feelings stored

His thoughts in cloud

His eyes patched 

And his words without sound


The man in the corner 

He lay in the cage 

Never help came 

Because he was his own pain

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