THE POET'S EPISTLE
There's only my phone on my face while crying,
So I typed all the sorrows to go away;
Made them arts that can heal someone's heart in clamoring;
I hope I could help even though some lines were cliches.
I wrote it out of woes,
But I hope they'll find it amazing,
Which could make them jovial, which I want to bestow;
I don't want others to suffer like I did, it's suffocating.
Loving yourself is better than loving others.
I am saying that everyone can leave, but yourself will never—it loses.
So, don't let yourself be baited by the abusers,
I went through it, I don't want you to feel what I went through forever.
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