My back hurts because of slouching a lot. 

       Scribbling, reading, and crumpling

       papers that have been tattooed by the

       ink of anxiety, fury and misery. 

I tried and tried to keep the words

      from coming out, but they keep on

      spilling like an outburst in a summer day,

      like a sand wanting to be freed from my palms. 

Music fills my head while my pen and paper

      seem to have this irrevocable relationship 

      that even I couldn’t come between them.

      More papers inked, time flies every blink.

But then I read a line from a written prose,

      it says, ‘healing starts when you let go 

      of the demons that burden your soul. 

      To free them is to keep your heart pumping life.’©


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