No Help

Writing doesn’t help.
Not really.
And it’s supposed to
but it doesn’t
and I’m angry
at my fingers
for not saying
what my heart feels
because I can’t put it
into the right words
no matter how many poems
I write.
And I just wish
I had someone
to actually talk to
about this
instead of only
having these
anonymous words
floating
where you’ll never
see them.

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7 thoughts on “No Help

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