myownpoetry
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What Am I Worth?
Just A Fuse Or Dust.
Maybe I Need To Find Ones Self.
Cry Each And Other Day Or Their Just Really Wet Sobs.
Can I Ever Be Happy?
Maybe Have A Glorious Day Or Is It About Finding Oneself.
you stalk about slowly upon the middling carpeting
legs prowling, jaw protruding
back hunching, gut oozing
a bitter antagonistic energy seeps through the walls and floors
traps awaiting, lessons daunting