With nicotine-stained lungs,
Tear-smudged cheeks
And her heart on her sleeves.
With star-like eyes,
And sin-kissed lips.
She pours her soul into meaningless scripts.
With her head buried in the clouds,
She screams her thoughts aloud.
She wastes her entire afternoons,
To write words that dance to a soundless tune.
Writing makes her feel more alive,
And is why all those painful nights,
She has survived.
Writing Therapy
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