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Wanderer

The Recoil of Over Coming Self Doubt

By Erica (Joyce) ThompsonPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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I wandered over the mountains,

Finally making it into the trees.

Only to come and realize,

That it was made for the bees.

Who am I to try and justify,

My own value in this world?

So cruel and cold,

For this stupid desperate girl.

Now I ponder into the darkness,

Returning to my pit of fleas.

Trying to figure out,

who it was that raised me to believe,

that "Beauty wasn't meant for [me]."

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Erica (Joyce) Thompson

•NOT TO BE LOVED BUT TO BE LOVE•

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