The Struggle of Being Me

I am not who I wanted to be

When I was just nine.

The skinned knees and broken bones

Turned into attention pleas and "forgotten" loans.

Cut? No. Burn> No. Purge? No.

Cry?

Everyday.

Because people make bad decisions.

My life is full of them.

But I have grown.

Now I am strong.

I'll be the one they hate.

This poem is about: 
Me

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