"Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand."
"I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love."
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Source: Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, Faber & Faber
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