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Untitled Poem About Youth


Family is more than blood. See, it's love.

Because even your blood can make you bleed. Would you believe I'm relieved to be released?

But now I'm a part of the system. A statistic. A number.

My name is downplayed, prejudice generalizations in the forey.

As my age increases, my appeal decreases.

Evidence is my younger siblings are in a good home, I'm in a group home.

I was happy to leave my 'rents, who couldn't even pay rent, so their minds dipped into ill-dissent and to make ends they gave their only daughter to strange men.

What's stranger is I'm not maleficent, I'm magnificent.

The situation did not mar me, it marked me.

You are broken by choice - though heart wrenching - let your voice be your tool of choice. Rejoice!

Re? Doesn't that mean again? Wouldn't I need joy to begin?

Rest child. If joy is hard to find, keep in mind you are mine. 


- Louis Cassamajor

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