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Isolation
Still a child, feelings of isolation
run through my marred mind.
Low self-esteem is like burning acid.
Real friends aren’t defined.
The knack of standing out is quite easy.
Blending in is not.
Trying to fit in is like a fake dream,
that hurts like a shot.
Until my courage peaks I am alone,
like unwanted dogs
who live in cold weather without a bone
needing a kind home.
What makes the dog through its meanest Mondays,
is not its fake strength.
For it is its hope of friendlier days
without the acid pain.
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