Part 1: The unspoken miseries

This is not a love poem
and never will be.

This is rather a
fuss and an objection
about the scars- 

which doesn’t
bleed
but
rather
torture and abuse 
my very own existence.

 The the ones I wasn’t
vocal about,
the ones that
I didn’t dare to
speak about,
the ones which
 left me in torment
and misery. 

But the ones who
whisper to me in
my dreams
and
in my
midnight  cries-
my own
 unspoken miseries 

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