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Send Me A Song

With a flip of the wrist 
there’s a song 
directing you on a time warp, 
back to the time you fell in love 
with the girl of your dreams, 
or so she was at the time.

With every turn of the dial 
there she is 
and yet, there you are 
years apart.

It only lasts 3 minutes 
but it’s the one  
that crawls under your skin 
late at night  
when you’re all alone, 
when thoughts run in c...

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Does a man feel more if he’s a poet

Or is he more equipped to express his feelings?

Does he feel more intensely?

Do his feelings ring more true, is he more in tuned? 

Are his emotions more volatile?

Do you have to struggle in order to be a poet, to experience life through a different lens?

Or does every man go through turmoil, turn it around to see it’s purpose to the end? 

Does every man live in someone else’s foo...

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Where Does It Lead?

The current running to meet the sea- 
does it stop midway to ponder its existence, 
to debate whether it should or if it belongs 
to the sea at all? No, it does not. It flows 
where gravity takes it, where nature pulls 
and it just knows where to go. 

And so, I stop to wonder- 
is nature pulling us or do you possess 
a magnificent force pulling me in 
to the deepest sea without a way to...

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You’ll Want to Sit Down for This

There’s no easy way to say this; 
there’s no way of keeping it in. 
It builds inside of me, 
telling me to set it free. 
It’s begging for attention; 
it’s scrapping up my knees. 
It’s knocking louder and louder; 
it’s banging down the front door. 
What is it, you ask? 
Well, where do I begin? 
Do you have a chair to pull up? 
Grab a glass of water 
and a box of tissues, too. 
I have a...

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Split in Two

The way I hide away, 
to remove myself, from myself, 
from my other self, 
the one that overthinks, 
to remain in motion, 
without hindrance or hesitation, 
because she doesn’t want to 
think of how disorganized, 
an absolute wreck, she is  
trying to keep it all together. 

She exhausts herself; gives 
too much to others until 
burnout. She keeps up with 
self-care, responsibilities...

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Thank You For This Gift

I used to dream of the sea, 
of lonely nights, 
the ones of you and me 
staying up late 
through all hours of the night 
planning what we’d do 
if we were in the same room 

I don’t dream of that anymore 
for when I’m in need 
I turn you on 
and there you are 
reckoning every nerve 
in this delicate body

I recall your words whispering in my ear 
for hours on end 
turning pages de...

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