I woke up feeling horrible for what I wrote.
Its purely factual, and I’m only human.
No more anger, its not gonna do me any good.
I’m sorry for being angry, I’ve just never been this mistreated.
I guess its all part of growing up, realizing I’m not the same person anymore.

I promised myself to not let anger get to me.
Everything I wrote were things I’ve kept deep inside like a volcano waiting to explode.
I exploded, and it wasn’t a graceful one.
I wish I didn’t know so much.

Oh well, chapter’s closed.

Related posts:

1. Tempered Men.
2. Letting Go, Running Wild & Free.
3. Go For The Kill.

Posted on Sunday, October 16th, 2011 in Blogosphere, Cheerio thinks a lot, Melbourne, Past, Personal Writing Masterpieces. Subscribe to this comment feed. Leave a response, or trackback from your own site.