Walking with myself
Walking alone feels like tongue bites,
when one is hanged with the book of his own insights.
The book has the power to affect how we feel, What we say, How we heal.
The text has emotions, the emotions that scare.
The existence of our self, the pain one can't bear.
I have seen people having two halves, the halves of two different existences.
One half consists of a face, a face of joyful presence.
The other was the divergent one, the depressed one with the suppressed veins.