A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret suffering, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and cries escape, they sound like beautiful music.
| Kierkegaard
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Saturday, January 7, 2012
Solitudo Solitudinis
i hate myself for failing to confront my fears
my failure to conquer the deep emptiness
and tame the acute loneliness that i feel
i should learn to isolate my self away from people
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