I am not quite sure what is it about my writing that drove me to the fear of letting others lay eyes on it.

Maybe it is in ink, that finally the truth slowly creeps up and maybe the truth won’t ‘set you free’ like how the quotes have been saying; maybe it entangled you even more. Maybe the truth is that the thorns on a rose are sharper than the beauty of the petals.

Or maybe its simply just about my Heart. How, in ink, it describes her in great detail; not leaving out a single blood vessel out casting them or even a single atom brushing them away. No.
Because in my writing its all about my Heart. All the smiles and laughs that she went through for the day and all the pain and cries she went through for the night.

It gets too gruesome for some and who wants to read about that.

Not even me.


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