What I feel, but aint

Is it the same thing? I wonder, to know something, and to feel it? For there are the times I feel useless all though I know I am not.

It’s when I am unhappy with myself, I am sour like lemon… It’s when I’m disabled by pain and I see the mess around me, bitter words escape my lips from the hard-bitten tongue I tangle it with my blood, hot like iron ready to burn. Ah… It’s funny this self-love thing… I am learning the kinder I am in the thoughts of myself, the softer I become. Tender and patient with everything.

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