My Poetic Lure

January 13, 2011
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It is my only saving grace
When I've fallen out of place.

It keeps my hands occupied
When my arms are twitching
For something to mutilate.

It takes away the pain,
Opens doors that once seemed closed,
Releases hidden feelings
That I could never straight-out expose.

I suppose it's something I live for,
The one thing about me other people adore.

It's simply my poetic lure.

But when the words that I'm writing
Stop fighting the truth
And it comes pouring out of my mouth
In clear meaning, aloud,
Minus the touch of delightful rhyme,
Will you be able to look me in the eye?

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