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Nov 2016
"Do you want to talk about it?"
You gently ask, seeing my sad face.
It's been a year, and though I could
Remembering is a disgrace.
Recollecting just makes it hurt.
Forming the words again is dumb
They're overused, now they sound curt.
To too many people I cried
To too many souls I have told
All my sorry, deep, dark 'secrets'
Some warmed me when I was too cold.
I wish I could say more to you
Explain why it's not escaping
Sometimes it's nice to not talk
Than destroy what I'm now shaping.
Written by
Marya123  23/F
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