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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
5/10/2018 3:42:51 AM
Wayne Riley Posts: 2
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I was always told as a child I had a lucky face. A bone structure that resembled somebody famous.
'There’s something about you kid, you’re different,’ they said.
'I don’t know what it is but you’re different.’
I was force fed this bullshit
Until it oozed out of me from every pore.
The stench of it
Worse than a French whore.
And now that the lines are etched a little deeper,
And the hair a little thinner,
And the waist a little broader,
And the pill a little stronger,
And the reflection in the mirror a little less clearer.
I finally realised with one more bout of depression
That I wasn’t anybody at all.
Not even myself.
The monster I had created had destroyed me.
No ego.
No pity.
No self- indulgence.
Not even any ashes were left.
I was free.
I was nobody. edited by Wayne Riley on 5/10/2018
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