What do I have to live for?
When I can’t even get
A good test score.
Everything I had hoped for is now dead and gone and people had A blast trying to kill my fun.
It never mattered if I was good
At something, but poor at
Something else. I know at
The end of the day, I only
Have myself. At this point, I don’t know what else to do, wallowing in despair and then I remind myself life isn’t always fair. So as I leave I will give you a souvenir
Signing off as the tortured artist, with a collection of my tears
I would kill to be a writer
It is something I heart
Even if you think I am not
Doing my part I will find
A way to make it art
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