Poem

clenched fists and stale

cigarette smoke

the kind that clings to

your clothes making you out

to be some kind of

romantic

soul

you’ve got all the words

and act the part with ease

but something in your head

keeps you from succeeding

it’s the fear

of stepping outside

of becoming something different

driving you crazy

like van gogh and pollock

only there’s nothing beautiful

about being

you

Categories: Poetry

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