What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?

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

i'm not a mistake
but i am a problem
however you can't just solve me

you have to listen
you have to witness
the damage that you've been causing

to make me like this
i was never normal
but i was never this faulty

i can't function
i can't deal with this normally
but i will try to do so calmly

I inhale as you speak  
And the fresh smell of grass returns
There will be a summer day
When my inner layers burn
And as they mow what’s dead away
I'll gleam as work pays off
For dripping, sparkling copper skin
Is how the light entranced the moth.

Inner peace and prosperity
must be free,
to bear true born fruits
of a balanced tree.