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]."
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About the Creator
Erica (Joyce) Thompson
•NOT TO BE LOVED BUT TO BE LOVE•
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