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I relinquish my vittles To the point where my blood secretes From my screaming pores "It hurts "they yell So I give until it hurts some more The reason to delve into generous endeavors
You came to Iowa, married, divorced. He wanted you to be small. You wouldn’t have it. No one can contain you, Extraordinary woman.
I try to hold on to my doll. She is so fragile still. I brushed her hair, can't let her fall.   I'm deep in dreams, then hear the call Of Mom, "The food will chill!" I try to bring along my doll.
I want to be something to give to people.  I want my words I one day write,  to make people feel something. To be so strong, they feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. 
The winter rain at a driving pelt Did batter the city park And on a bench sat a city beggar Far past the hour of dark He sat and with a mighty shiver Groaned deep from the outer cold
When type 1 diabetes don't stop you When asthma, anxiety, and anorexia don't stop you
It started off with the alarm, alerting that my day had just begun. The iPhone yelled into my ear causing my dreams to be undone. I got dressed and brushed my teeth, curled my hair and went down to eat.
"Okay, one more time!
Our days have been numbered like pages Our time is chapters unfinished And, to turn the pages, we find the line of giving
Please tell me that we haven't become Mindless conformities made to match; to blend in, to mask who we really are.   Why do we follow so closely this pattern of mediocrity?
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