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Heavy the Heart of a Poet

Heavy the heart of a poet

Who must write as life unfolds

Neither turmoil or meager mirth

Sway or prompt their given goals

My secret self is destitute

Bereft of breezy notions

Bombarded from all sides I am

With brew of ill-aimed potions

A thin veneer of beneficence

Shrouds my humble home

I do not doubt it’s vulnerable

To risks known and unknown

I write in day and into night

I whisper as I speak

I dip in wells that oft run dry

My eyes are spent and weak

Compelled am I to document

In ho-hum sing-song rhyme

A living breathing testament

That sheds light on this time

And I will make you laugh and cry

Through intervals of strife

In hope these words of mine console

And make sense of this life

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