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She sits almost stoic One child at her foot
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Remove your lie and let me address the real you
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I am an empty room.
Filled with books
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What is this?
This body of mine?
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I belong to the dark room
Hiding in the warm, welcome darkness
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It’s always there
But you never see it
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We can not dress
How we think.
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Refuse to disown who I am
Or be ashamed of what I am…
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I am not an African.
My race may have the title AFRICAN proceed the American but I do not speak the Nilo- Saharan languages of the land.
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Fatal Wound,
You struck so deep,
You have made,
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I often ask myself why I am the way I am. Why do I always watch people; why am I usually quiet; why do I honestly care? The answers come slowly, but each one only adds more questions.
I asked my parents wh
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I grew from stubbed out cigarettes,
I ran through thunder in my sleep,
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Nothing could tease my ocean tempest's dormant rage more
Than my keep betrayed and
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He puts his hand on
The glass, on the lemonade,
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If there is a God he has sealed my doomed fate,
If there is a Devil he has taken my identity!
by cyrez
18 lines,
on Nov 7 7:38 AM 2007. In insanity, doomed, fate, identity, ignore, hate, devil, darkness, screams, despair
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Lost; t(s)ense.
I walked\walk for years
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I am Laura.
That would be my name.
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This water is scratched
in these hours, in this room so
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I can't find my identity you see. Its sounds strange but let me explain. A big part of it is being a citizen of 2 countries. I was born a c
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They laughed
when I spoke
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