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Damaged

What society says of folks like me.



Damaged goods, is that what I am?
Has society sent me on the lam?

I try each day, a better person to be.
Not allowing all the world to see.

The hurt, the pain that I feel inside.
Hiding tears that are often cried.

Each day a smile I try to place.
Upon an others heart and face.

Does that make me a bad person?
Others pain I try not to worsen.

Sending good thoughts to everyone.
Hugs and cuddles, leaving out no one.

Happy go luck is what they see,
not the broken little parts of me.

So am I really spoilt merchandise?
I do not show quills like porcupines.

I feel I am a better, more tolerant guy.
Who prefers to be alone, when I cry.

Maybe in the end when life is done.
This hurt and pain I can finally shun.

Back to the universe, life's routine.
To begin over again pure and clean.

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