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I’m feeling alive but I feel the doubt remaining. It’s like a ghost that haunts my every waking hour.

No time to rest when there’s so much inside wanting out, inspiration rises as the music inside plays on.

I’m a mixture of my expectations and experiences. I’ve got nothing but my imagination. Will you give me a chance to prove myself?

Wide awake in the middle of the night wondering how I’ll feel once the sun rises again.

I want to do so much but often I get stuck in regret and nostalgia for a time imagined. The things I should have said and done since I spoke my first words of poetry.

I say goodnight but it’s only dreams that pull me from these words. I dream to escape the real. I dream to feel things I’m unable to feel while awake.

Categories: writing


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