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Rated: E · Prose · Drama · #2098966
Love yourself. Even the parts you think are unloveable.
Girl, you don't like it when I call you
woman.
Right?
Naturally occurring are the insecurities you nurture
by nature . . . of the house from which you were born.
You don't see the obstacles in your depression
this victim mentality
is actually devouring you slowly
stunted growth
darkness takes its approach.
So, you cut off your wings
because you've already decided there's no need to fly.
Why . . .
are you the cause of your own pain?
It'll never be otherwise
in your mind,
you settle for what is farthest from the best.
Baby girl,
I won't call you woman;
your request.
Hold tight to the deprecation
that keeps you warm at night.
Sleep baby.
That's what you'll do...
Till you are ready to wake.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item.php/item_id/2098966-Grown-Child