Check One, Check Two

Check one, check two.

Can you hear me coming through?

Forgive me if this lacks clarity,

But my internal capability

To process and feel is erratic

I end up with a bunch of static.


See I know writers with better reception

A better connection, deep introspection

Concerning the way they think and feel

Determining their own definitions of what’s real.

Most people write with these decisions in mind,

But these, for me, are much harder to find.


I write to feel, not to explain

Myself to others, or make my thoughts plain.

I write to find undefined, underlined emotions,

To allow my mind to sink in underlying oceans.

I’m met with waves of fear, pain, and grief,

Or the stillness of love, joy, and relief.


These subterranean, subconscious feelings

Never reach the surface of my defensive ceiling

Until the words themselves are said aloud.

It’s an introvert’s curse that I’ve been endowed.

When I write I intend to break the surface,

To dive deep down, and see what emerges.


Check one, check two.

I have finally gotten through.


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