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I haven't witten anything in a very long time

Over the years I wondered why

My pain and happiness were always on a page

Written in ink, now there

text messages that ruin my day.

Why did  stop writing?

At some point I stopped caring about

how people felt; what they thought.

My thoughts and action became shallow and selfish.

When did I stop writing?

At times my life seemed perfectly imperfect

and  the imperfections were tolerable to stand.

I wrote what saw, what I felt; what i did.

What did I stop writing?

I've lost touch with the person

that spent hours writing down phrases and thoughts on a paper.

I'm stuck in a body that writes I love you's and broken hearts on the corner of my exams

Who was the person that stopped writing?

Now, I can't even answer that.

That person was strong, and consderate.

That person was shy yet amazing.

That person used to be me.

Then time played it tricks;

My thoughts became arguments;

My happiness came with a simple hello.

Have I always been this way?

I wish I never stopped writing.

 

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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