If I were a poet

……”If I were a poet, I suppose I would be able to sort through the storm of thoughts behind my eyes with pretty metaphors and clever turns of phrase. I suppose I would compare my anger to the oppressive silence of the night. I would relate my loneliness to the sad wind rattling empty tree branches. I guess I would say my rare moments of happiness are like the little pinpricks of light piercing through the velvety darkness. If I were a poet, I would probably relate my depression to the emptiness I feel in crowds of people. But I’m not poet; my anger is just anger, my loneliness just loneliness, my occasional happiness just that, and my depression merely depression. Shame I can’t sugar-coat my mind.”

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