I read your journal

Reading your words, your poems, your feelings, it makes me hurt more than any physical beatings, it was a glimpse in your mind, all your madness, I read about your love, heartbreak and sadness, I see a glimpse of your broken past, all the pain and aching you didn't broadcast. I understand now, why you are the way you are, why you carry such a long mental scar, why you get so angry when you're alone, you said you wouldn't choose loneliness over being turned to stone, but I wish you realise the damage you do, because you forget and walk away without a clue. You think everyone is horrible and callous, but it's your words which paint their canvas, in all your spirals and breakdowns, you don't realise the anger you unleash has no bounds, you think you're the hurt one when your sent away, but it's the people you leave behind who seem to pay. You are lost in yourself, in your own well, do you know how many people you've pulled down when they're trying to pull you out of your shell? No, you don't, I feel it in your words. You're in so deep, and you just keep falling downwards, if you were me, you could tell, reading your journal, you'd see you've trapped yourself in a cell. I know because I've read your journal.