11:10 pm

Poem: Frantic

This pen. This hand.

This paper. This mind.

These words that I scratch
            an attempt at a rhyme
            and the life they define.

This world. These people.

Through living. Through dying.

The trouble that comes
            through crying, through hurting,
            through holding, through helping,
            through smiling, through laughing.

This giving and taking.

This way that we’re walking.

This babel we’re talking.

The lies that we’re telling.

The emotions we’re quelling.

Another line that we’re selling.

This endless dwelling,
            Excelling?

                                    Rebelling.

(written by Jaspenelle and Michael Stewart)

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