November 6, 2007
I beat myself up while
Pushing the pencil down,
Carving words into my heart that don’t belong.
I reach the end, having to start over.

When I finally glide my pencil
Across the paper, it
Becomes easier to breathe.

As the black ink touches the paper,
It slowly changes color, giving
Me the light to understand.

As I finish my carving,
My masterpiece finally
Comes to an end, creating me.

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