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Venting Through My Pen

I’m here again and pondering,
venting through my pen.
Inside my head is jumbled,
and my world is crashing in.
This self destructive cycle,
that never seems to end.
That asks the same old question,
stand tall and strong, or do i bend?

Feelings of indifference,
surrounding me with guilt.
Are tugging at foundations,
for that of which i’ve built.
And there’s no-one here to talk to,
no ear with which to share.
So i sit and vent on through my pen,
as i have done for years.

For the pen will spread no rumour,
and the paper can be burned.
And my feelings can stay private,
that much i have learned.
For life is unforgiving
of errors in judgement made.
But a decision will be reached
amongst this thought toraid.

Heath Gunn

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