Chapter 4

The music + writing ( + painting) helped get me through (as it usually does)…

What the f*ck? I used to write poetry all of the time

I’d think up a line and I’d think up its rhyme

I’m doubting myself cause I think I’ve lost the skill

I’m down on myself cause I’m over the hill

I wish I had faith in myself like before

When onto the page my feelings they’d pour

I’d expel myself onto written pages

Documenting the life I’d lived through the stages

The words would flow like autumn breeze

They came so quickly and they came with ease

I think I’m ready to try again

To open my mind and let words be sent

I have so much to say from inside my head

I may be older but I’m not dead

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