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What I Feel
This power, it surges through me.
I feel ready to implode.
My emotions are too confusing.
Nobody will ever understand.
This power, it grows and develops.
But there is another,
More distinct feeling.
A feeling of deep loathing.
This feeling, it controls me.
There is no escaping it.
I try to act normal,
Yet it is always inside, lurking.
This feeling, it always returns.
Soon, it will consume its host.
There is no stopping it.
It is like a parasite.
But it is not invincible.
There are ways I keep it at bay.
My friends help do that.
Even if they don't realize.
There are just a few more.
When I am typing, or painting.
They are both the canvas onto which expression is poured onto.
This is how I feel, always and forevermore.
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