Here, in the midst of the tempest
I found myself lying in between the sheets,
Far from the door of pretension,
Away from the sucker of wealth.And a blast of music in my ears,
not sorry for my soaked cotton pillows.
Here I am, hindering the flow of my tears,
afraid to see myself in it's vulnerable state.While I showered smiles infront of people,
I am stabbing myself for not raging in them.
I'm afraid that this storm, cries louder
than how I bleed.
Because you know, I am afraid,
Afraid that I may not stop myself once I grieve.Uhtceare; twenty three
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The art of Poesy
PoesiaLying awake before dawn and worrying Compilation of words since 2018