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Writing helps me relieve stress.
Go ahead and judge my writing skills, not what I write about.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


Your last words ring as you step away.
Dead silence but we have so much more to say.
You turn around, just to see how I'm doing.
You know you've left me stranded, cold and ruined.

Every second alone is another breath I don't want to take.
Without you, there's no point of living.
So bury me if I must live a solitary life.
I'd rather be burnt in the sun, than hide.

My nights are hostile without your touch.
I crawl in bed and sing to myself, all the sleepless nights.
I'd rather be held than be holdong onto your worn out thread.
It's either me in your arms, or me dead.

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