I am furious about us. That we can’t seem to get past these etched boundaries made of diamond-like paper.
I am furious with love, that it seems to have failed my friend and has taken sojourn in the bosom of my foe.
I am furious with life, that it is so unsatisfactory. That it lifts your dreams way up high and dashes it on the rocks. That it erodes our hopes and dampens our passions.
I am furious with my motherland. It gives me sweet memories, foundation for all my words and art and sours them up in the same breath.
I am furious with myself, for the stars and roses which cloud my view of the roads both taken and not taken.
I am furious with you, yes you ;for thinking that this is a vent or a lament.
This is a yearning for the passions that beat…
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