I write sometimes.
I read sometimes.
The day is going to be well.
But I feel I am always broken in many unspoken words.
Many poems were written.
Many feelings were poured in many cups of the day I spent too much.
They said, you are overthinking to yourself.
They said, you let more anxiety fill your brain.
I said, maybe this is the last time I will do.
Maybe I will forget the past and hope everyting is going to be fast.
I write sometimes.
I read sometimes.
Everyday I get I always heal myself.
Maybe I was born.
Again.
And again.
And maybe,
I will die everyday too.