The ink of the pen blots the paper
And cognitive notions fill the page
This is my letter to disappointment
Surged by my cold hands,
A vivid image continuously reappears in my mind
Constricting the vessels, which before, so gracefully circulated blood to my heart
That pumped synonymously with the tenth of every second
Controlling the reflex of my blinking
Which no longer serves to protect its internal belongings,
But that exemplifies a gaze avoiding reality.
But in my letter to disappointment,
the dawn of conceptualization is here.
And the forms, even though some tainted,
Are present in its fullest capacity.
Shivering hands yell out the truth
A dry mouth scribes out the lies
The vibration of my chest from the conduction of my heart is my closet friend
The only, showing me that I am not omniscient.
That was never the head
Above all, I am not.
You are a fool to believe I am worthless.
But I am a fool to believe I am worth more
Now ancient to the conjunctuated clutter that accentuated my being,
I am now pleased to announce the new heavyweight champion of my existence
And put my pride aside
The first step to pure and wholeness is realizing my uniqueness,
But my individuality can be disguised in the form of something better or worse
In another human being.
You see, I am indeed one of a kind,
But as a person we are all kind of one
I am now aware of the fact that I am not indispensable,
Meaning easily replaceable
Someone tried to show me this, but it took a hard fall to notice
Thought I was an antibody to the effects,
As you told me I would soon feel the abuse of my defects
In the same, was presented with a mere image of myself
Shown the traits that exhausted such burden
And buckled under the lash that I once waved
The pity was once, it ends now
Reconstruct a new “Me@~;~g” of actions,
And much emphasis on the tiny letter
One by one I will build
The w-o-r-d
The m-i-n-d
The b-o-d-y
Rebuild what I so subconsciously broke down

Yours truly,
“Me@~;~g”