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Sad poetry writer,

The depressive episodes keep on narrowing. Emotions pile up sometimes triggered by simple thoughts. A sixth sense develops by which you pick up so much on the negative, sometimes purely for the philosophical high that this gives. 

Never do you pause and consider that your conscious keeps secrets from your subconscious.

 You are latched in an infinite loop; a vortex of emotions; a suicide trajectory. You are the equivalent of a cocaine junkie.

 The beautiful lie is that in an essence you are taking all the negative energy from the world and giving people something beautiful and beatific. You think of yourself as an energy recycler. 

The ugly truth is that you spread an infection; you produce junkies for your brand; you become many’s drug of choice as they relate to the poems you paint and the outstanding understanding you have for them. Slowly and slowly you inspire a hostile emotional mind take over in their lives. A fair share of your following commit suicide and some get swallowed up in the prelogic you carve with your words, disconnected from everything warm and sweet. The wise ones guard their hearts jealously. They see your online blog as the Pandora box it truly is.

Your words are soothing, the adrenaline that come with them is mind blowing; the high of it is so insane you have some Jamaicans following your blog. 

They all see the sun that you are, but they don’t see the black hole you are turning yourself into.

One who understands,

Another sad poetry writer,

Herbert Uba

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