When I was still a kid who volunteered & gave truthful opinions from pure heart, people loathe me. For my dictatorial characteristic, my straight judgements. But deep down inside, all I wanted was to help out, to make things better, to strive for victory. With the tiny flaws I see, my itchy fingers can't help but to snap things right without taking its smooth turn. I have my ways of picking out people's dents & marks, harsh I would say, but there wasn't a chance it never soaked into their ears. To be exact, my way of correction works, but it was often misconstrue. Tired of it happening developed my permanent silence & hidden blames.
The day two days ago displayed my death in persuasion. Despite it's a function I head, I lost my rock-like viewpoint. I gave in, loosely allowing people trampling over choices I should make. Not a surprise, my once stubborn correct-all-fault trait was indelibly numbed by the past happenings. My inner self was going wildfire, but I couldn't voice out at all. Probably because I couldn't manage its side effects I'll earn later on. Frail heart I own, damn I hate myself.
Wake me up before I do something immutable, please.
The day two days ago displayed my death in persuasion. Despite it's a function I head, I lost my rock-like viewpoint. I gave in, loosely allowing people trampling over choices I should make. Not a surprise, my once stubborn correct-all-fault trait was indelibly numbed by the past happenings. My inner self was going wildfire, but I couldn't voice out at all. Probably because I couldn't manage its side effects I'll earn later on. Frail heart I own, damn I hate myself.
Wake me up before I do something immutable, please.
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