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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem to vent about my last two weeks at a program called ARC that helps you deal with issues. Unfortuatly one guys actions and how the carers in my mind fuck around with it and my Diabetes makes it hard for me to see the positive.

Submitted: November 16, 2011

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Submitted: November 16, 2011



Force myself from reason and reality

Harm myself and scream with insanity

My broken life is looking so clear

Slow going, stuck in first gear


You know it’s you whom drives my hand

With mind and eyes rough as sand

You try and make me conform to useless rules

Seriously carers that’s so uncool


You hide your muddy hearts with smiles

Your ego goes on for miles

I have given you a diabetes plan

Still you try and make me bland


We must do groups to “Get In touch”

Well now I am, “Thanks a Bunch!”

I now feel emotions from a tortured past

Now I wish to sleep beneath the grass


My medication turns me down

It makes my aggression come around

Now I am nerved by Caleb’s every word

I feel my voice goes unheard.

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