intro

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let this be a warning to you, and that is how i can't write.

this book has been with me for a while now, and it has never been to showcase my skills in creative writing, or my linguistic abilities. it isn't exactly a poetry collection either, unless you wish to view it that way. it is more of a chest, a portal to a black hole; where all my bad emotions go. grief. anger. my deepest fears. they are all laid out in front of you, the reader, right here in this book.

to the people who know me personally–you can interpret this however you want. but much like poetry, the deeper you read between the lines, the more you start to question everything going on around you. and unanswered questions will always break you like brick on glass. so i advise you not to read into it so much and enjoy the ride.

poetry has been my only form of catharsis for a very long time now. partly because i used to be able to write, also because poetry is so flexible and beautiful in its many different forms and ways. and i really love how poetry is a second window to the mind and the heart.

i can't write. but as a stepford smiler i do have a lot of negativity bottled up in me for far too long, so i need to get them out.

- shea.

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