Honesty
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Honesty
I got words to write day and night
Just to find that inner light
You call it word play
Between the grey
As I close my eyes
I realize
It's a gift and I must use it
It would be a tragedy to stop and lose it
It is therapy
It is ecstasy
Released from my soul and mind
The real me with in the context you will find
As my heart is revealed upon every page
Every emotion every tear and every ounce of rage
Is it a calling? I'm not sure
When I write everything is genuine and pure
This needs to be said
The escape from my head
To quiet all the noise that shall reside
As I hide
This is the best way to know me
Through every page and every line I feel free as could be
The only time I really visit reality
Once I leave this desk and this computer I return to the land of fantasy
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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.