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Clear enough for ya

I do truly think
My life is pointless
In every single way

My "friends" dont like me
It's i'm just there
Using up the space
Taking up a chair

Even now
My poetry sucks
I just type away
Not a feeling
Don't give a f*ck

I'm good for nothing
That's as clear as day
I'm just a living corpse
Rotting away

No creative spark
Not even with this
Thats why my poems
Are scorned and hissed

Hey look at that
I'm failing in school too
Even though I work
My grades are
Well, Poo

My boring little
Self rant
Could go on for hours
And hours
I hate my life
So dont bother
With flowers

Tell me what you think, I really do want some honest feedback

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