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Waste Basket
Everyday I wake into this savage place,
Forever, this has been my birthplace,
It seems they call me a waste basket,
But I, never really asked for it,
I hope and pray everyday,
To be free from my eternal stay,
The life I live as just me
Oh how I feel just like debris,
Humans see me as just a toy,
But I am truly just another boy,
They act as if I don’t exist,
But without me they would be at risk,
They don’t understand my value in life,
So I must turn around wit’ my knife,
It is never a pretty picture,
Nor would I ever like to depicture,
The sight the others see,
Oh geez, what a sight they must see,
Oh sometimes I wish I had the strength,
Knowing I can’t without such girthy length
So forever this will be my fantasy,
To be free from this agony,
Sometimes, I wonder if there is a God,
And if there was would it accept myself so flawed,
For more than I can think,
I have been in this ice-rink,
Big walls and cold floors,
I believe it is time to enter the outdoors,
My time is near and the end is nigh,
Surprised by the fact I was never the bad guy,
I take a gun to my head,
And now I am on my deathbed.
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I was trying to find inspiration to write a poem, and as I was looking around my classroom I saw a waste basket just lying there. I thought to myself, "That's it! I should write about a waste basket." That is how I came to start writing this poem.