hate

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  • Hate

    hate

    I tried to scrub away the feel of his skin on mine,
    every night i rubbed my skin hoping it would go away,
    but it will always be there.
    i was only eight



    Those rapists eyes,
    so brilliant. their soft and delicate faces,
    seeming as if they could tell no lies

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    zulekapaki’s Poems (18)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    if noboby love me 0
    i cant belive this 0
    teddys dont hug back 0
    bruised 0
    hate 0
    remember 0
    sometimes 0
    dont be afriad 0
    story 0
    I know you're coming for the people like me 0
    I miss that part when we moved forward 0
    what to do with out you 0
    no one here 0
    whats love with out hate? 0
    i follow my dreams don't label me 0
    How could we lose sight of what matters most 0
    im lost in a world that does not want me 0
    when words fail music speaks 1