(POEM) One Who Meddles with The Closet

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Fancy a poem?

Maybe that can help understand what I had felt right now. (Trust me, I don't know how I feel today, so don't mind...)

Why with the identity
That has hurted my own privacy?
That fellow follower
All the things I now clearly see
That threatened my own identity.

Looking at all its books
And looking at all the artwork
Has hurted my senses completely;
Things that doesn't make any sense
Or make some sense entirely.

Revealing the true self out
Of the open, why would that matter?
Was it all that hurtful to know?
To annoy someone completely
That made me do the "let it go".

So why would I say so?
Was it all useful to know
To identify yourself in public
And letting the awkwardness go
For the people you already know?

Random isn't my thing now.
Maybe I'll keep the closet door shut
And keep the key to myself;
Trusting someone who's real
Isn't the one that gonna helps.

Maybe I should write a stupid anthem
Than making out a expressive poem.

That's all, stay tuned for more.

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