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I am She. She is Me.
I am here.
My mother would describe me as pessimistic...
My friends would call me the same.
I keep an ocean of secrets, and
I remember every lie.
I hide my insecutities, and
I can read you like a book.
I shout for help,
I am lonely.
I see my every flaw.
I hear them talking, laughing.
I taste bitterness.
I feel numb.
I think, why me?
I whisper, "you're crazy."
I am independent.
I want closure, but
I will never find it.
I won't forget, but
I cant try.
I pretend that things don't happen.
I sing my silent screams,
I am quiet.
I dream of something different than this, but
I'm afraid, that'll never happen. So can
I reach for your hand, and say
I'm sorry when I let go?
I love little things like that.
I declare for the world to hear who I really am.
I am Mia.
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