An epiphany

I used to write poetry all the time

I used to acknowledge the air around me, the wind, the warmth of the sun

I used to have time, well, I used to make time, to stop and breathe

And write what was in my heart

And feel better for it

Now I make excuses

I sit on Facebook, look at emails, and search for jobs

Instead of seeking what lies within, aching to be heard, festering alone,

And ultimately

Releasing it

From where it lies

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