anger,
i think i kept too much of you in my heart,
that i no longer know how
to obey you.
sadness,
i always turn my back at you.
i always tell you that i hate you.
but the truth is,
you’re the only reason why
i write.
and when you’re not around,
i can’t be a poet no matter how hard i try.
i never grieved
for the things that even the world
will cry about if it found those out.
and i’m afraid,
so afraid,
of the day when i will explode
because my head can no longer hold
the tears behind my eyeballs.
i’m afraid,
so afraid,
to be perceived as weak
just ’cause i showed how vulnerable i am.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
