Here are a couple of my shitty poems I wrote when I was in 8th grade and depressed.
I am not welcome here. Trapped in an unfamiliar mind, that I call my own. Random ups and downs, they’ve become my new normal, they've become the only thing i can call familiar. I can’t say I am myself anymore. Maybe I should keep this to myself but it just pours out, unstoppable, like a waterfall, always flowing unless a dam is built, but I am not a beaver. I am only a fish that follows the current.
Cottage
This small cottage. Full of all my secrets and lies. Maybe someone will find it and walk in one day. But for now I will keep this small cottage locked. Hidden away from the cruel world because this world likes to destroy cottages and use the room for cruel things.
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