What is it?
The something like a heaviness presses on me,
And the self in me groans under the thing,
What is it?
As I scream out to strip off the thing,
It is stabbing my heart,
with the bloody blade of a dagger.
I want to throw it off
with the very thing,
the evil….
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This is a poem I wrote 15 years ago. At that time I do not want to mention anything. So I selected words "What is it?" As I think about it now, it is a mind that is a hatred, a guilty feeling, and a heart that is rounded in my heart, close to evil that can not be expressed. It was heavy, sick and hard to bear. I wanted to get rid of it, but it was impossible in reality. No one has ever experienced the pain of reality more than once, but I seem to have done more and more bad thoughts than beautiful thoughts. So I guess it was even more painful. However, I knew that I would be forgotten even if I did not try to get rid of it in time. Now I feel a little lighter.
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