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Let's turn the page I have a story to tell About being on stage And how I fell I'm attached to strings Yet I want to be free Everyone else sings While I wish to be me
“When she speaks, she speaks with intelligence” oh thats strange, I am not intelligent I tend to let everything flow slowly, around my timid, lonely figure Without any doubt, reason, or curiosity
I feel like I'm giving it all I've got I feel like I'm giving nothing at all Others give so much more Under worse circumstances Maybe my soul is just smaller And I don't have as much to give
Dear ex-lover, You say that it's not always about me as if this fear of not being enough of ruining every good thing in my life
Am I Am I beautiful? I know you tell me everyday That I’m more radiant than the sun But I don’t believe it for a second That I’m even remotely attractive Am I Am I smart?
Growing alone, Behold the self-doubtThe crying, the lying, the gritting of teethWatching others ascend while your mood still depends on your peers.Fingertips brush edges where there is no apparent jail,
The biting exchange of night into morning is here. I lay coldly, intertwined in crimson sheets and tangled hair. Awake from a daze into the new day,
Who am I? A question that has plagued for as I can recollect. I'm African. I'm Indigenous. I'm European. But who am I really? In my youth I would yearn for you, this knowledge of self.
I love my friends. They're always there for me when I need them, A fucking lie; they're useless, terribly frivolous rats, who never stop to consider--
All I need is myself For in me there is strength Hidden talents But as an open book I feed my flaws
Your Beautiful Your Inteligent Your Needed You told me these things when I was young I never belived the words you told me I threw myself down And told myself I would never be loved But
To illustrate the Spring, And focus on the innocence of bright new leaves Which cover a fresh landscape... Is ignorance on my part-- To say that infantile flowers are so opaque as to mask
Visions of a little girl distract my days& haunt my nights
Self where are you come back to me for we need to be reacquainted
There is no winning in this war with myself Weapons drawn from every direction gun loaded bows ready
When a tree falls in the forest and nobody's around Does it make a sound? If a write a poem and nobody cares Does it still make a change?
I am nothing to myself,
I am nothing to myself,
You fall deeper each day into an ocean filled with dark, murky water. You want to escape but the current filled with self-doubt makes it harder. You constantly seek freedom but the dark shadows of negativity hold you down.
because I've got a kink in my neck.
A charming smile melts a stoic heart, Magma cools and turns to glass, The soul fades gray and turns to ash. The chest grows cold and light falls dim, Yearning ends and passion fades, Fear and love doth wane.
I put on the cap and the uniform To please the people that give me money. I follow their rules with a synthetic smile To appease the ones I work for. I complete the caustic piles of work
Self-doubt knows when your weakest point has you by the neck.
You handed it to me As the snow fell around us, Clinging to the fur of my hood. Hesitant, I reached out, Taking the pink and silver tool. Pulling the silver, The blade opened up, smooth, so smooth,
(Our vision to move forward in our different paths is constantly fogged by doubt and uncertainty often spouted by the voices. The Voices,like the fog, can obstruct the view of our desired path.