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i'm not a poet   i don’t know what people mean  when they say to write for yourself, or  write like no one 
It started at a young age I can't quite put my finger on My mother always told me it was rude to point But every one of my flaws would soon be pointed out
As I consistently remind myself that  for a seventeen year old, I don't feel as if I'm living up to life's fullest potential  'Cause every time I attempt to rent's due or cent's few 
I wonder what I can give, as far as wisdom goes,   for I am somewhat young and have many years to live. The cool Autumn wind blows
I am not perfect, for I am human,I envy, I hate, I love, and I fear,What worth can be seen in my living years?
I want you to see the part of me that glass so often hides. Scrolling down your Instagram feed, you would barely even recognize me.    I want you to see the part of me that is hidden by makeup
I hope... Because I care... Because I love my friends... Family... Neighbors... The powerful message... Jesus taught me To love your neighbor as yourself If it wasn't for that
We all have dreams to strive for   a goal to reach to reach for   we just have to wait for the right moment   to get success like the Romans    
What is behind it? The void The abyss The unknown Behind it is whatever it pleased to be
I wish You all could see The small girl behind the facade.   Behind the facade That does nothing but show off And try to prove to everyone that she is a woman.   When really
There is beauty in the folds of my skin and the crease in my brow Underneath my matt of hair and freckles There is power behind my quiet voice and my timid thoughts Seeing past my unsureness and doubt
Incredulously more malicious is the fear that sits and wishes To give you its affliction Of viscious scenes and memories
I’ve come to realize, i’ve been living in my own lies. Fully submerged, head beneath the surface living my daily life without a purpose i was a hypocrite to my own speech “chin up buttercup” i’d always preach
If I could change one thing I would change the locks on my sister's eyes so that she wouldn't see the air-brushed women on the cover of magazienes. I would bar her ears from the kids at school
She hated herself for what she’d become: all alone with no one to talk to. She didn’t know why no one liked her. She couldn’t understand what made her different
Trapped in the web of decisions made, I miss feeling free. Free from the world and it's ensnaring situations, they deceive me constantly. I know I am capable of greatness, however,
Some people are like onions. You never know if they'll be savory or just make you cry.
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