Note to Self;
Stop begging for scraps at tables
Where I am not even a guest.
I have spent my pride like pocket change
On people who don't even know my name.
It is pathetic, this frantic dance I do
just to be noticed by the indifferent.
Starve that desperate need for a hand to hold.
it juat makes me weak and hollow.
Look in the mirror at the ghost I have become
while chasing shadows.
Sit in the dirt of my own making
until I learn to stand up alone.
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