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My Demons
I am this sad thing;
It’s called,
A depender.
I need,
Require,
And desire,
Other people’s,
Approval and attention.
I feel lost,
Without these things,
Like the energy,
I can barely find,
Is slowly being drained.
I find myself,
Scared now,
Because of a sad realization.
My fears.
The things I found repulsive,
And regretful,
Are now my saviors.
Now,
That my demons,
Have become my angels.
I know for a fact,
I am no longer a saint;
But a natural born sinner.

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