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I’m upset But no one can know why I’m upset, so I’m not Get it? Something clatters to the floor Small and metal We’ll call it my phone
I first recall it at thirteen I’ve heard of younger girls who had it worse But any age it too young When the touch he lays, Burns your skin
For as long as I can remember, I've always had this void in my life.
They said they would handle it That they understood That I didn’t have to worry about him hurting me anymore
Still as the un-awakened beat, Until the soft stirring of the symphony takes hold, A soul no longer held captive, But is free. Trying to hold back the memories, But is letting the hidden emotion flow,
September 3rd Maybe I'd always been broken inside. Perhaps the image I projected of myself was nothing but a wisp in the wind An outspoken thought driven by false assumptions of myself.