These stanzas give me a form of outlet. They protect me- these little letters stare back at me, and they know how exhausted I am. Know how much I love them. Hate myself. They are aware that their very existence is based off of you, and they are not kind to me because of it. You come harsher to me now, you make me suffer. Why is my life full of suffrage?
I like this, I relate to those feelings too, writing can be incredibly intertwined with so much suffering in life and can be bitter and also sweet. I find it’s good to get it out sometimes!
The last line bothers me a little though… the word suffrage at the end. Suffrage is a short intercessory prayer or to have the ability to vote.. essentially, to have a voice. It’s not related to suffering… you might want to look that up.
LikeLike
Éloa 
Leave a Reply