P A P E R B A L L I change my diaries, every now and then, and flip my pages, to crumble them, cut those lines those words, feelings which I don’t want or am too intimidated to acknowledge. I let those rhymes, stay unfinished, in those diaries, pages, as I push them back the thoughts, daunting ones and I crush them down as they try, to resurface as they endeavor to halt me flee from myself. Am I too scared, to encounter them? or too fragile, to accept it? or unprepared or I lack the valor to ogle within myself? That vicious one, that careless one, the one that I have begun t o resent, the one that I, yet somehow wish to sustain the one that is, unshackled from the world the one that does not meet any parameters, the one that desperately seeks emancipation the one that is still not losing hopes. That reckless piece of mine, that I am crushing down, in crumbled pieces of pages tha...