melancholic romanticism

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Off from work,
done with bus stops,
and train rides
I get home and strip my clothes off–
kill the lights as i am melancholic
Now naked in bedroom,
my lantern sees me writing,
and the desktop feels the cold skin i let slip…
as I am melancholic

Once home, the persona for outside world sleeps
and the cold skin is what I let slip

I let slip–
this depression in the back of my mind
and infront of my eyes

Infront of my eyes
are journals and diaries
writing silly kill me's

this is the time where I feel exposed
where i feel truthful
only when I am naked and alone

A/N
I wanted to portray how I feel realest when writing poems because it is where I pour myself in

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