Pick those flowers on your lungs and let it wither.
Let your heart stop beating for someone who doesn’t deserves it.
Let yourself be burn to your worst degree.
Fall right down on your knees and scream the damn pain inside you.
You’ve let the love to do its work, let it hurt.
That’s part of its work.
Let it bleed—
Let the tears roll down your face.
For once, allow yourself to be an artist.
Let your mouth bleed with the unspoken feelings you’ve been wanting to say and be the author of your own story.
Let the abstract in you be seen by the people who are doubting you.
Do not cut your wrist, blood and scar might ruin your skin.
I know, your heart was cut by the words they’ve stabbed on you, let it bleed with poetry and speak for yourself.
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