April 11

Inching closer...to a fate worse than Death.
Over and over, can't help myself.
I've given up, don't know what to do.
Over thinking and crying, I wish I could stop.
Why won't you talk to me?
Am I that repulsive?
Is this my fault?
Am I worthless?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Journal Poem For April 11th

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