<The Fire In The Rain>

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I flew those kites in hurricanes

I won the losing games

I didn't cut corners

I fought for my place

and yet

I'm still punished?

I don't get it

No I have nothing else to give.

But I can say I fought to be here

I made it this far and

Yet I'm the one with weary bones

With ugly scars

With matted hair

With the mental capacity of a brick


The Poors Of The Pity •Mental Health Poetry•Where stories live. Discover now