When I thought of putting my anger aside,
I meant that it will put my pages on creases
And imprints on its face.
When I thought of leaving a life behind,
I meant that people will pull me again
But my pen will help to scream about all the unheard pain.
When I thought of loving somebody,
I meant that I will fill him with all my words
And all my emotions
Because everything else can be faked.
When I am sad, I close all my floodgates
And rest a little.
I sleep a little.
And eat a little.
My fingers surreptitiously crawl to my diary,
I just need something to vent my anger on.
I just need someone to hold me even close.

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