What could stop a dancer from dancing
But a broken waist
What could stop a swimmer from swimming
But a broken shoulder
What could stop a singer from singing
But a broken voice
What could stop a writer from writing
But a broken hem.
After fourteen years it supposed to get easier
At least time heals everything they say
But what went wrong in my own case?
Fourteen years of endless battle
Fourteen years of trying to stitch a broken soul
Yet instead of getting better
It looks more battered and scarier.
I thought poetry was my escape from pain
Thought I would find peace within the walls of these words
But like the peace I have ever sought
It keeps getting complicated
It keeps pushing me away
These words, my only therapy for fourteen years
For long fourteen years I have asked these.
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