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

Submitted: August 03, 2012

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Submitted: August 03, 2012



I'm not really good at much,
I'm slow to understand things,
My voice was ruined after I got sick,
I can't draw or paint,
I can't dance,
And my writing has always lacked something I can't seem to figure out.

Ive never really been beautiful,
With unruly hair the color of wet beach sand,
Eyes the color of storm clouds,
And skin littered with brown and violet scars.

I can't say I'm sane either,
My emotional stability is lacking,
If not gone all together.

I don't really understand why I do things,
I think with my heart instead of my head,
And it always gets me into trouble.

I've always hated myself,
And I'm pretty sure I always will,
I know you're trying to help,
But I need more than just a starting point.

I might be broken,
I'm not hopeless,
At least,
that's what I keep telling myself....

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