Poetry for the masses and those who don't care to see.
I can't believe it happened to we,
so many attributes in your eyes worth nothing,
my type not needed here, not even by me.
I am leaving this place, and won't be back here again,
You achieved what you wanted to prove,
That you did not love me and it is the truth i needed to see.
Haunted by its ghost but not allowing myself a measure of its truth.
What's the point of trying again,
They get the spoils of our head toils,
While i am left with nothing and dread.
Better off sleeping in a permanant bed.
Copyright (c) Robyn whittaker. 2009.
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