Instead of bludgeoning myself to death

I find myself a pen

Just to write all my sorrows away

In this way, a purging is promised

Which brings me closer to myself

Which leaves me feeling alive

There is a healing in a quill 

There is peace in affording yourself space

To write off all your wrenching pains

At times celebrating yourself

In form of a lousy poem addressed to yourself

Instead of lynching myself to sleep

I find myself a paper and a quill

Frankly scribbling all my fears and sins

And that’s how I get all my healing