The Poet Who No Longer Writes

The Poet Who No Longer Writes

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jun 6, 2020
There was once a girl who wrote obsessively, Painting strokes of words on paper, Using her palette of emotions. But somehow, one cruel night, Everything she had to say turned to dust. And she turned to emptiness, to silence. Maybe you could say that Grief and regret filled her up so much, Until there was no space left for words. And the sky darkened above her As she became a poet who no longer writes.
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For every person out there that was quiet, not because they chose to be so, but because they were choking in the smoke. Because their opinions were apparently not worth anything. Because they didn't know just how to say what they felt. For every person that is consumed by their own thoughts, the derision from the outside world only making it worse. For every soul that was drowning in remorse and anguish on restless nights. For every soul that says I love you in the dark and in the mirror because no one else does. For the floors we would pace while anxiety sunk its teeth into us. For the mirrors that we would break while shame echoed its laugh in our caged walls. For the hearts that would ache while loneliness was the only company. For every moment of pain and solitude in this world that feels too cruel for such young and frail minds.

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