Freewrite #5: Tempered Glass

Some mornings, you have no other choice but to open the vents and just,
Let it all out.
How sick and tired you are of your current reality.
How you wish you had family that appreciated your existence.
How you hope for a day where you wake up without wincing at the thought of Life itself…

Because,
You don’t want that bottle inside of your chest to explode now,
Do you?
A bottle made of tempered glass that will ferociously implode and ricochet against the sinews holding your entire body together…

I don’t know about you,
But,
I’ve built a phobia for cuts on my skin from anything I possess inside of my soul.
My antipathy to the thoughts in my mind coercing me to fall off an edge I’ve distanced myself from,
With pleasure…

So,
Regardless of how many tears build up inside of tear ducts begging to stay happy,
I rejoice with my smile after releasing all of this Pain trying its best to tear me down…

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