I give myself,
To write this poem,
And it’s not going well,
But that’s the thing about all this,
It’s hard to balance it,
The constant stream of thought—
But the need to move my fingers,
And the way I go along,
Is not as fast as my thoughts,
But they get lost in the lag,
And I can’t seem to recall,
Where I was going with this shit,
What the point of it was,
And where I am going with all this,
But that’s the nature of thinking,
It’s not clean,
But at least I wrote something.
Special thanks to: Melissa Potter
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