To Keep Pain Off My Face.

How am I to right this?

When, the problem's me.

I don't think I can fight it.

Why can't they all see?

I didn't choose the broken,

The bitter, insane.

But here it lives within me.

A body wracked with pain.

How am i to cope with this?

When my bones should slip there place?

I'm tired of my own clenched fists, 

To keep pain off my face.

This poem is about: 
Me

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