A Closed Book

From the very first start, I chose to close my mouth

Rather than to say a word and getting replied to an abruptly response

I always kept, at least, a small diary

Where I could freely express stuffs, without any judgement, doubted, belittled

Ever since, I trust only to an ink and a flat white

A kid did it, and still going on many years later

My consistency to express is at a lowest point

It was either I let it go or piled it up, until no space left

Yet, assured I'm still have enough space

In some way, some other time, I started to blurts

Slowly, words by words, and later on, I flooring anything without a break

Turns out, I regret it

Mostly, they get hurt of my lacing words

Or, they unfamiliar with this side of mine

Or, simply get hurt in general

They are too get used to this masked-kind-person they projected onto me

And I don't get used to their retorts of this side of me

I might be wrong by doing so

I might be wrong to say a word I want to say

I might be wrong to express what I actually feel

I might failing to address things nicely

OR

I might have to use my ears and eyes only, rather my words

I should've keep it to myself

I should've not bother things

So things could run smoothly

Nonchalant to things they want to say

In which I should be a "part" of them

They want to be a "part" of me

No, I'd better be left out, I'd better be untangled, you guys too

So we could be "fine" to one and another

I will go back

I should start sewing my mouth and tongue together

I should expand more and more spaces inside of me, so I could start piling up things again

An open book never suit me

An opened one, I'd bury, with its following feelings

Even though, I will lost anything eventually

Anon, I'll start with a closed encrypted one