My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
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Thursday, September 1, 2016
ill
This morning I worried
Before I even opened my eyes
Worry woke me up
I feel relieved
To slide this pen
Across this paper
With irregular breathing
Emptying my mind
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