Did you know there are many,many artists on this world?
You’ll understand in a bit.
I am like paper.
I’ve been colored and used to write what they think of me.
Every time somebody added a color it changed me.
Every time somebody cut me
Every time somebody ripped me
It made me mentally ill
Made me think…
Wow.
I really am just a piece of paper that people use and soon I’ll be thrown away
I really am nothing
Then I said to myself…
“I’m nothing and nobody can change that”
Im manufactured from something so natural and pure to letting people overrule me making me who I am today
Depressed
Alone
Ill
Dead inside and out
Undefined
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This is a very dark piece with a lot of emotions running through it. It takes a lot of guts to write a piece of writing with so much honesty. I admire that honesty. On another note, you refer to yourself as a piece of paper. It reminds me of a demonstration a teacher of mine showed me years ago. She held up a perfect piece of lined paper with no writing or ruffles in it. She then went ahead and crumpled the piece of paper in her hands and then straightened it out again as much as she could to try to get it back to its normal form. Obviously, the paper was bent out of shape and crumpled, but she insisted on making the point that our life experiences bend us out of shape and change us, but that doesn’t make us any less important or valuable. In fact, often times it is those exact experiences, which bend us out of shape that become the most valuable in defining ourselves.
Great work and beautiful writing!
Thank you so much I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Thank you so much and I am glad to hear you enjoyed it.
Beautiful stuff right here. Your voice is so pure, don’t let anyone change that. Follow your heart and be happy ~