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the image of me..
she says she knows me, she doesn't know the real me, just the me i rpesent myself to be. She thinks its anger when it's hurt as the emotion, she thinks no one will have my heart, when that is what i hold on to as a token. she speaks about me, and who i appear to be, but she still has yet to speak about that night, that night has me constantly battling this fight within myself, but i still think, who can i tell, as i silently yell, out in fustration, my heart still races, like it did that night, i still fight this endless fight, while i hide my tears, as i think on the years before, all this remorse has my heart acing, feels like im taking more breathes than before. My hearts tore, but i still walk tall as i out up my walls, around my emotions, my head hurts from bearing this notion. But yet my heart continuously races, my cirulation is cut off tight, like the birght white laces i wear inside my shoes, who knew that she would be so cruel as to let this go? that's why i never told or spoke of it again, it leaves me breathless, so furious, too much to hold it in, this is the biggest sin, i feel my heart getting heavy, my poetry that kept me so sane and tamed for these games, i can't even explain, how this made me gain, such self respect, just no self confidence..
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