Musings of an Insomniac

every night -
her fingers tap-danced on the keyboard
alphabets joined to form words
and words turned into sentences. 
feelings found a voice
and insomnia found a purpose. 

and pain. 
people recognised and 
related to -
each and every feeling
of the imaginary people she created. 

every emotion -
found its way on to the paper,
through her heart. 
love made it skip a beat,
pain ripped it apart. 

it was all worth it,
all that mattered. 
her words were what made her -
what she was.

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Depression is REAL

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