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


I find it odd how its so easy
To confide in a pen and paper
It’s too easy
Am I nothing more than a cowardly, trustless being?
There are so many people I have, that I could tell
But I always take the easy way out
Nothing ever changes except the stories
Only my notebook knows my secrets
And though I feel content being what I am
I always question myself
I constantly criticize my ways and my actions
It’s neither positive nor negative
Just a never-ending voice in the back of my head
It is always tearing me down
Which is probably why I am too fearful to conquer my fears
So maybe it’s better that I remain condemned to paper
So that this voice does not take over
So it stays contained
I’ve made it this long
It can’t be content criticizing me for much longer

Submitted: July 12, 2009

© Copyright 2021 AbigailxWritesx. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:




thats how i feel too most of the time...alright...all the time...

Fri, July 17th, 2009 2:51am


ha. no worries.

Fri, July 17th, 2009 11:44am

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