A way with words

The constant arranging and rearranging of words in my head.

I must find the right fit, the rhythmic flow of words.


Aha! I have found them. I franticly write the cluster of words

on the walls of my mind. I step back and admire the years of graffiti

there; Beautiful.


However, like the cells in my body, the old must shed and make room.

I  shall release my words from my ever constricting walls of consciousness.


I allow my pencil to whisper my words onto my paper; sweet release.

The walls are bare again. Maybe not, beacause where'd I get these words.





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