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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
me wondering about a few things in poem form i guess..

Submitted: August 11, 2012

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Submitted: August 11, 2012



why cant people realize how smart or beautiful or handsome they are? 

why dont they see what we see? 

why cant they see how perfect they are to everyone, 

or how much everyone cares about them?


they see themselves as this lowlife that no one cares about


they dont see a good reason to live


they would never think they are perfect


they dont think anyone would give a damn if they were gone


why should i think im pretty or amazing?


why cant you see me the way i do?


why cant you see that im not asking for attention,


or pity because maybe i dont want them to care about me?


yet people never take the time to listen


they never actually care


all they do is make you feel bad for showing them the reality of the world


why cant people see you and everything else the way you want them to?


why cant things be perfect?


or at least okay?


i wish everyone was happy


and nothing was ever wrong


but wishes never really come true


or do they?


do they just come too late?


or is it something more..?

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