literature

Outsider

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Literature Text

I cursed myself with pitch-black darkness,
I shut the door to my heart, forever,
It was never meant to be opened again,
My wounds were never meant to heal,
And my ice was never meant to thaw.

I was never one for happiness,
Not that I never pursued it,
I just had no talent for anything of the sort,
The moon understood my loneliness,
I wonder if the stars knew my pain.

I was always an outsider,
Never intended to feel warmth,
Yet now I feel like I have an excess,
I was always Jack Frost,
I was always an outsider,

But I guess, now I'm not,
And for that,
How could I help but be so very thankful.









Inspired by some songs I've been listening to, and the fact that people called me Jack Frost when I was younger (and still sometimes do) because my hands are always ice cold, also the fact that I had a truly terrible childhood and chose to give up on people, but like the poem says that plan didn't exactly work x)
© 2014 - 2024 meanmaco12
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