I Write
sometimes I write so bleakI scare myself to death
I sit and read my crimson lines
and try to catch my breath
My friends, relations see the signs
of depression's ugly glaze
They talk to me behind my back
their words are hollow praise
They don't know that writing words consisting
of such strife
frees me from the incidence of these things
in my life
This exorcism of pen and pulp is respite for the sane
They are my tears dripped into words
and I punctuate with pain
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