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I need to tell someone how I feel. I wish there was someone I could talk to. Nothing happens when I talk. But I can't keep writing.
April 18 Edit: But I will. I will keep writing. Because what choice do I have? Confiding causes other people problems. No one can know how I feel, not from me. So I will keep writing words "that will go eternally unread", print a book of poison, and try so hard to remember.....everything I feel is a secret. A cross I must bear alone until it crushes me. No matter what, no matter how bad everything becomes, my mouth will be sewn shut, my face will reflect a pogrammed lie. These secret words will be th truth. And no one, will ever find them.
Even though I want them to. I want these words found. i'm rather proud of my poems. I'm proud of the truth. I wish someone knew. But after last night, it's clear to me now that that wish, is selfish and must never come true.
Even if people knew how I feel, nothing would change. So I guess it doesn't matter.
 kazuka78 · Thu Mar 29, 2012 @ 02:33am · 0 Comments |
