I write my soul
To process things outside my control
Not everything felt is good
It may feel good
But some are just a welt
Even when it was pleasureful in the beginning
Sometimes the ending is just
Well, meh, in the end
Like a fox that has caught the hen
What do you do when you’ve reached the end
I suppose you pick up the pieces
And begin again
I write my soul
So the things I can’t control
Don’t take their toll
You have to open the levee
To not drown in all that is heavy
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Comments (1)
Sometimes it’s good, sometimes bad… others just okay .. But, on those fateful times.. It’s GREAT. Now, if we could only get others to see it… Lol. Not all poems work out. I can’t even fathom the number I’ve simply deleted. So, I get this for sure. Nicely said AH