"F"
Your life really was never fully your own,and indeed was it granted, to you on loan.
Given in love, to see what you could do,
and how you'd handle, what it brought you.
For a time would come, when I'd recall,
so to grade, and judge it all.
Told to treat it well, and not to abuse,
or oneday premantently, you would lose.
Now to this point, have your actions brought,
and all you could be, I am sure you're not.
For I know not, the individual, you portrayed,
because it is not the person, that I made.
Living as a stranger before my eyes,
and even believing, your own lies.
For you are not, who you think you are,
and how you became this way, is so bizarre.
Truly shameful is the life, you displayed,
and you shall not receive, a passing grade.
Such high hopes, you'd make me proud,
and not allow evil, your judgement cloud.
But your days have now past, under the sun,
there is time nomore, with you I'm done.
Poetry by someone else
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Written on 2009-07-13 at 00:45
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Amy Valentina |
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