I stand alone,
My bag rubbing against my back,
my hair flying infront of my face,
My legs weak,
My heart thumping,
My breathing beating,
Envy piled onto of me,
No-one would fill me with such pain,
Nor such desire,
Though I will no more get bullied,
Though I would no more get hurt,
My feelings means nothing,
Nor does this poem.
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