Brianna Wilshusen

Rookie - 0 Points (June 22,1992 / Waterville)

Her - Poem by Brianna Wilshusen

When she comes,
I grow sad.
Her thoughts,
She hates me.
I can hear her mind,
She wants me to die.
I frustrate her,
Torment her soul.
Fake is she,
Friend guess not.
Monster inside.
Enjoying my grief
Enjoying my pain.
No longer her friend,
I shall be.
And all her hopes,
Turn to fear of me.

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Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 9, 2008

Poem Edited: Friday, January 16, 2009

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