How do they usually start?
The emotions simply flow out from me
My advice
My hurt
My confusion
It pours straight out
And into words
And with them comes more of what put out than in
For with them comes the hope
The ever dangling dream
That they are the talent
They are the gift
One to call my goodness
Why am I here
More than the falsities I’ve created
So much more
The written word poured out from the embedded soul
Like a penny trapped in asphalt
They are there
Unable to be removed
Lest a part of the soul is removed also
Sticking and stuck
Wedged right in
And the sad part is
That they make up a part of me
They make up me
Everything I do
Everything I think I want
You say it isn’t you but
But YOU DID IT
It is who you are
Not who your mind makes it out to be
Thoughts pour out
Hopefully this is me
And my aching limbs body and mind shall not be weary
Or embarrassed
This is me