Anger Heart

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How much easier it would be if I were not lonesome,
so rooted in my happy lonesome,
cornered with no feelings that someone's happiness might be dependent
on me.
Alone in my encounters.
And reaching for companionship when I do...
It allows me to go to new people when I don't have a shadow following me all the time
who I
averted my eyes from today,
flinched from friendly bumping today,
and felt oppressed by.
I still am warmed by the prospect of being
held in warmth and knowledge of each other.
Why, hello, friend,
dear, oh dear, friend,
more than friend,
dearest companion,
and then some.
my angry heart pines for more than this
but pines for you too.
Rage is for the unsettled soul
And I do not want to show anybody
for fear of being a reoccurrance
for fear of them recognizing something that has happened before
and for fear that I will be considered as another
flighty heart who ceased to love another who loved so strongly.
I am not! I am not!
I still love!
Keep your intelligence from my anger heart
for if I cannot explain it now,
and I cannot,
you cannot begin to understand the fathomless complexity of my
present existence
with my heart, soul, strength, and the hoard of aimless passerby thoughts.

 

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