I almost gave up on writing.
There has been so much pain this year,
I don’t mean Covid or political.
Its personal pain all around me,
I thought I could hold it in
Stops writing all my pain
The more I held it in,
The more words would rain
Everywhere I went,
Like a golden secret,
I didn’t act upon,
Most of those magical pieces,
Haven’t made it for you to see.
I fall asleep writing poetry in my head.
All of my great works
Locked away instead.
I thought I could stop writing.
I thought my writing was in vain.
The longer Ive stopped (hell its only been a week)
The more words run through my mind.
How could I have been so blind.
Writing is my heart, my escape, my set free
It helps tap off the pain seeping out of me.