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Comments about Deena Wilson
Who Am I?
An empty shell, a gentle soul, a flower yet to bloom
A discarded note longing to be heard
I find myself out of tune.
I love, I hate, I shrink, I grow
I’m also misunderstood.
I long to live and not just survive
Without panic or martyr hood.
I’m detached and alone
Always fearful of the unknown.
That joy, that hope, that love for life
Has never surfaced within me.
My courage, my destiny, it often fades
Into stages of depression and self rage.
Its waves engulf me, leaving me breathless and weary
Yet I plod along hoping no one is near me