why do i agree to this idea?
noone ever reads my journals, theyre too filled with hate.
a big open wound for people to gawk at
wondering how fucked up i must be to think of these ideas.
why does anger come to mind when a pen is to paper
i have gone against my personal respect
that i thought i had for myself.
type type type type type
where is the expression through typing?
go back to hiding your thoughts for yourself only.
this diary has no roof, no comfort or privacy
all the walls are glass.
and the fire is machine operated.
what happened to life?
who is so powerful that can remove the feeling of satisfaction
out of a person gasping for something new?
a species of animals that can contain others.
mankind is a curse upon these lands
what if i didn't want to be here?
what if my spirit does not belong to my body?
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