This story begins outside the womb

With a baby who, ridden with illness,

Experiences pre-thought  emotion,

All negativity.


This little girl, no more than three

Experiences her first compulsion;

Unable to  look at others’ eyes,

For fear of contamination.

So young to be struck down by dread.



She's grown up somex, at the age of nine,

She experiences

The feeling that something is wrong

But learns quite fast to hide it all

For fear that she'll be judged.



Fast forward to November; she's fourteen

Her soul is wrapped in chains

Experiences true sadness;

Deep, dark hellish oblivion.

Already tried to end it all

Not once, not twice, but six times.



I'm older now and wiser now

And now I have the secret

To true life and happiness;

The outlook you have.

Experiencing this perplexing life-

Heck, even this poem

Has a happy ending!

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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

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