I scratch my head,
there’s nothing left to write.
I’m finally emptied
of all complaint?
Impossible!
This journaling every night.
And now my muse
will slowly disacquaint.
Yet here I am,
chasing the pen…
Or maybe I am
chasing after zen?
Now, if I dig too deep,
I could fall in.
It’s possible I find
my true self, then,
While writing in my bed,
I’m all tucked in.
most welcome π
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Thanks, it makes my day π
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love this piece. there is innocence and yet honesty to this piece!!
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π
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Same
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π€ͺπ€ͺππ
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You can have too much zen? Maybe
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Same here.
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