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My body pushes breath from my lungs.

It’s a forceful breath of course.

Because I don’t want to breathe.

I don’t want to show any ounce of life.

Because I fear people will notice me.

I rather cringe

and crumble in the corner.

Than to be forced to stand,

and let the world know I am here.

To many people take attendance.

And they expect me to be there.

Although I rather not be.

What’s the point,

when there are already plenty like me.

I’m simply a duplicate.

Poetry Slam: 

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