I Think of All the Things that I Could Be, and What I Am, by Mary M.

A Poem By Anonymous // 10/3/2004

I'm not happy.
I think of all the things I want to see,but can't.
I'm not wonderful.
I wish that I could be moving,and I'm being held back from all that I find soothing.
I'm not complete.
My guitar sits in a corner-untouched, never tuned. I'm always blue
I feel fake,and stupid.


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