A heartache most will never know crushes the strong walls of my heart into rubble. Strife, the strife it yeilds! I bury this under illusions and the lies I tell myself. Should I let myself ponder it for even a few short moments, the pain leaves me without breath. Insecurity is my curse, hope my poison, thoughts my killer, reality my foe, and sweet words my only sanctuary. A black and inky cloak I will wear, but only beneath my plain and ordinary clothes. My own privacy I begin to respect, but a suffering to which the cause is only known to me will surely never know resolution. Each attempt at easing the burden only leaves me feeling more exposed, so no more. I know my mind is like a set of faulty scales, never quite balanced and always under risk of tipping without warning. If a weight is applied, surely they will hesitate and give way.
Hmm, my attempt at forging something of beauty out of the raw materials that are my woes has proved to be pitiful. Life is a joke, but I guess I'm learning to laugh...
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