I speak in poems
Cause in riddles I can hide,
Hope they call it genius
When I’m really terrified.
The problem here – the thing is though
I can’t muster the will or rhyme,
To articulate or fathom
The current state of I.
Breaking rhythm now
And this might be a misstep,
But I’ve put my all into my efforts
And all it gets me is the next step.
Always thinking ‘forward’
When from toward there was a thought:
‘Forward is perspective
So keep your eyes up.’
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