Am I Real?

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Am I real?

I see my shadow,

I feel my skin,

Yet on the inside,

I feel numb.

Am I real?

I cut myself every day,

Yet I don’t feel any pain.

I’ve been deadened.

Am I real?

I walk through the halls,

Yet no one says a word.

Am I invisible?

Am I real?

People judge me.

They gossip around my scars.

Is that the only part of me that is seen?

Am I real?

Or is it just my skin?

You, perpetrator seem to only see the same.

My body, my skin, my genitals,

Maybe YOU are the reason I don’t feel real.

I don’t feel alive.

I don’t feel like me.

Am I even real?

Guide that inspired this poem: 

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