When souls die, they are rid of the pain and suffering they say. Do they also get to see the pain they caused other people? I need to know, after they see all the happy moments that filled are inside their head, do they also get to see how lonely they've made other people feel? I wish they could see how I've innocently suffered the wraith of a curse that I never touched.
I hope my parents see it all in the afterlife.
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The Writer.
When I was a little kid,
I always wanted to be writer.
Making up stories, putting pen to paper
It always made hard times seem a little brighter.
As I grew up, and life got harder
It became my escape.
Some sort of armour.
As I grew, I slowly learnt
How easily people are able to disappoint you.
I learnt to block.
I learnt to deflect.
I learnt to watch where I stepped.
I pushed away love,
Because it only came with hate.
But you can’t blame me, right?
I was just a kid
With a lot on my plate.
I couldn’t see the damage I did.
Most things in life are unknown.
That’s how many people live,
Having the unexpected hit them, like a cyclone.
But I’ve always been writer,
Used to control.
I’ve always known how the story was ending.
I never had to anticipate what the future was impending.
When things turned bad, or became too hard.
I’d retreat with my pen and paper
And write stories as a guard.
The one’s around me said
When I run and when I hide,
My words become shallow
And my eyes seem hollow.
I’d bottle my emotions with a sense of pride.
I let myself be vulnerable,
Just one time.
Blink and you missed it
Just like the perfect crime.
What I learnt from my experience,
Something that became a matter of fact;
Is that, finding new ways to hurt eachother
Is what we are all good at.
They say don’t fall in love with writers
because their poems are messy,
and their letters are empty words that are dressed up to be pretty.
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i think ive always been in pain
before you,
and even with you
a gaping wound,
leaking black matter
being held in your arms
only served to conceal one half
while emptiness continued to
bleed from the other
heavy-handed, unthinking fingers
curling deeply into pliable flesh
every broken promise
every insincere apology
even then i let you
pry me further apart
allowed you to crawl in
until you settled fully and heavily
in my chest
i’m whole, i’m whole
- the lies i tell myself
smiling with tears in my eyes
and arms full of you
when you finally decided
you’d outgrown me
you’d left without so much as a goodbye
and in your place was
a you-sized excavation,
the only thing left of you
for me to remember you by
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[1]
There is a conflict
in my mind
at tug of war
should i say
or, say not?
[2]
There is a gnawing feeling in my chest
should i fight
or, let it rest?
[3]
There is a spiritual crisis
my soul split into two
should I wage a battle
to extinguish the fire
my heart is set ablaze 
[4]
There is a deep anguish
in my heart
my soul devoid of love
my eyes empty
what should i do to fill the empty cup?
[5]
There is a fire
that is consuming me alive
should I surrender
or, should I ignite my passion
for love that died long time ago
-Sea
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I miss when we used to say goodnight a dozen times
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