I want her to see

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I want her to see my poems

I don't know who she could be

Maybe she's a he

I don't think it matters.

I want her to see that my soul is in tatters.

I want her to help me heal

I want her to make me feel.

Bring me out of hell.

To show me what's beyond this cell.

This cell of despair, of defeat, and shame

A cell too dank for any to claim.

The cell is my soul.

It needs to be whole.

But it's hesitant, it cant decide

doesn't know with what to confide.

It's silenced from several blows

and happiness it never shows.

I want her to see.

So she can help me.

 

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