To Be Me

This could be the last poem
I ever write there’s something
missing it’s not the inspiration
there is plenty of that

I woke up this morning feeling
something less than nothing
dead eye blank stare zero
my emotion went A.W O. L. in
the night

words find amplification on
paper for it is the paper that
will always listen when the
world is too busy to make a
connection from the page to
a soul

knowing not every word is
for everyone but there are
those which trigger something
raw, something meaningful
deep understanding a smile
laughter or a tear

the sound of one hand clapping
is nothing more than displaced
air and that is more than I feel
inside something is changing
what is happening I don’t
understand why this why now

it used to be alright to see life
through the eyes of another
but I got a taste felt the touch
found the feel discovered life
outside the box experienced
freedom of a kind that liberated
a spirit

how is it now that I come up empty
are we all only given a certain amount
of emotion to have to hold to sense to
share and when it’s gone its gone holding
life’s head beneath the nevermore until
it draws the last conclusion disappearing
into the background mist of a midnight

I no longer feel the words that find paper
this may be the last poem I ever write
I’ve lost my ability to be me



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