Pity.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this late at night a few days after my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It was my first writing in a long time. So go easy on me. Bring on the criticism.

Submitted: April 16, 2010

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Submitted: April 16, 2010

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5 days ago, you were talking shit but that was before you knew all of it, abut my life at home. My dad is sick and yeah, it sucks but fake friends, they don't help me much. Before all this, I stood alone with few friends that cared about life at home and now all these people pity me and to be completely fair, I hate the pity. I hate the fakeness. I can tell you don't give a shit. So you won't bitch behind my back because my dad is sick? Honey, maybe you don't understand but I don't need it. I'm fine with my true friends I've had since way back when because I'm sure once the cancers cured you'll be talking shit all over again. The end.


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