A stoic posture
sometimes hides the beast
Those feelings, the desperation
is a fire I learned how to extinguish
in a matter of seconds
But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t burn
Small wounds lead to infections
I toss and I turn
Sleep evades me
I blame it on the moon
instead of the chaos caused by you
Like a skilled writer
I summarize it all down
but I end up being the one
expected to apologize
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Poetry Books: Identity Crisis, Rehab