I have written tonight to the last fiber I could muster.
I am still full of concepts to decipher
But I have poured out as much as I can,
In the only way I know how.

Words fail me now as I sit here,
Frail, wounded and open to eyes that don’t really see.
But I am pleased.
Because even if no one ever reads my words,
And I never deliver them to an intrigued, expectant, awaiting hall,
I have shed another burden to these shriveled papers,
My constant, faithful friends.

And even if it is only my guardian angel peeking over my shoulder,
Who will see the sprawled and scrawled contents of the chaotic zone that is my mind,
And see me for the unstable chemical I am,
I have said my peace.

I lay it here.
And now I lay myself aside too,
Emotionally raw and weary,
But soon,
To live and learn and write once again.

“Paper has more patience than people.” ~ Anne Frank

xoxo, from where my 7 dreams grow…



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