Written by: Afrin
Edited by: Ratan mess, my mind is a spiraling filthy mess. how would i ever trust trust my baggage with people, with messes of their own? people who would throw my heart back at me, if i ever gave it to them. so i confide in ink paper and pen, I plug in my heartstrings with blood and tears. because paper listens, and paper comforts. paper turns my pain into art, that is applauded and scrutinized, and i find that stripping off parts of myself, and stroking it with color, decorating agony, and sugarcoating parts of my life, that destroy me just to be presented, with a real smile, will always give me more relief from people. than people, just by themselves.
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May 2022
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