You foolish creature, why do you keep doing this? You know it isn’t as you make it sound. The words you speak in front of humans sound so simple and tame. You make it sound as though you don’t feel like you’re walking on broken glass. What is with your obsession of always acting tough? Why can’t you let your tears flow away in front of another? Why not just say that you feel like crying? Is it that scary to trust somebody?
I know you are not strong, I know what you do when you are in your room alone. You constantly pretend to be this person made of steel, but no. I know there are days when you still struggle to get out of bed, I know that even though you have come far, there are days that almost break you. You, who wants to inspire others because you know the feeling of almost losing your life, why can’t you move forward yourself? I’ll tell you why, it’s because you don’t face the truth. It is a bitter sweet reality or a vague illusion, the fact still remains. It is your beating red which holds the truth.
Your heart is a library. From the outside you have appealing lights that lure travellers to come closer, when they do, they see the diamond walls that surround you. Some try to break it and some give up as soon as they face it. But I know the inside is a peppermint smelling maze. It’s scattered with books of stories, known and unknown. There is a fireplace at its core, with burning fire that was almost diminished for forever once, but it continues to burn. These books remind you of everything your lips seal. Though you have locked away in the Pandora’s box and now, even you don’t know where the keys are. Salty floods never seem to break in this place. Ah, but there she the little girl who roams in this territory. She screams, kicks and cries at times. She is the one you tried to bury within the walls so many times, but it’s as though you can’t erase her tiny footsteps. But what makes me curious is the room underground. The room filled with stars, butterflies, and golden dust. You never let that room be unlocked, even though your diamond walls guard your library so well. Who is it that you are scared of? Is it truly the ones trying to break the wall? Or is it the person whom it once belonged to?
Why do you hide this place? For once, wouldn’t it be alright for someone to enjoy the warmth that hides within? For once wouldn’t it be alright for the inner walls to be flooded? For once, couldn’t you let the golden dust see the real world?
Tell me silly girl, don’t you want to know what it’s like to cry on somebody’s shoulder?
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