i grew up being forgotten.

a poem about leaving in the dead of night.

Photo by Ella Baxter on Unsplash

i have made a habit out of

leaving in the dead of night.

when morning arrives and i do not,

the people i’ve left ring me

to ask where i went.

i grew up being forgotten,

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writer | editor | poet | all things personal development ↠ alaynadoyal.com ♡

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Alayna Doyal

Alayna Doyal

writer | editor | poet | all things personal development ↠ alaynadoyal.com

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