Wishful Thinking

the blood that flows

are the tears that never show. 

my eyes are dry

but they long to cry. 


emotions rage through me

consuming every inch inside my being. 

i bottle everything inside

as it's the only safe place for it to hide. 

i run wild and free

with no place i have to be. 

i guide my own way

with every step i display. 

my path is unclear 

yet my destination feels near. 

as i grunge through these woods

i reminisce on Other's Childhoods. 

This poem is about: 


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