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Depressed

You're not giving me room to express myself.

You're telling me to put everything I am on a dusty shelf.

This poem goes to you

and all that you do.

I'm not the same kid I used to be,

So stop treating me like a baby.

I can't be me because

you want the me I used to be.

I feel like you're chaining me down

with chains that are at least 100 pounds.

I'm different can't you accept that?

Stop treating me like a stray cat.

How is metal bad?

I assure you I'm not in some kind of evil fad.

can't you hear me weep on the inside?

No, you rather have me hide.

I'm not saying I'm an anthropomorphous.

I just need room to breathe

and be who I want to be.

Duskinoirgull22 (talk) 01:33, March 19, 2013 (UTC)

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