I'm just so frustrated.
This makes me feel dumb.
Why do words not work right on this?
One simple essay,
One simple grade.
This not so simple situation of sury and shame.
Blame- the art of the game, perpetuates.
I could blame it on anything.
And still not know the truth.
Really, why must I feel so out of control?
Frustration. Heartrate. Blood pressure. Tears.
I'm cold, blue, empty from you.
You, that is a personified thing,
I angst you, essay,
With all of my heart.
Please, go and leave me in this world
To die all alone with pen and paper in hand-
I am consumed.
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