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When I looked in the mirror,
I saw an incomplete face.
A human formed so vague,
God forgot to give her a face.
Formed by the last lump of clay,
A human,incomplete in every possible way.
Yet, a chisel given as the last parting gift,
Ready to define my own face.

When I look in the mirror these days,
I see a different face.
Imperfect but proud,
Because I sculpted it.
You ask me my goals
So you can steal my dreams
You tell me to listen
As you crush my soul
You make me wait
For the day I die,
The day I break.
To prove to me
That I am weak and soft,
Alone forever
In this cruel world
The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence

— The End —