Okay I wrote this poem and I want some feedback and constructive criticism. Thanks, here it is:
Have people not listened when you tried to talk?
Do you ever feel like an old sidewalk?
Do people walk on you all day long?
And not stop to hear your sad song?
Do you have cracks in you, and are filled with despair?
Do people not notice, not stop to repair?
As the day grows dark, and the people pass by,
do they take a look at you and sigh?
Saying, "That damaged sidewalk is such a shame",
and in their haste, not see your pain?
As people walk on your broken path,
do they criticize you, creating wrath?
Ever feel like you're not good enough for decorative chalk?
Ever feel like an old sidewalk?
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