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So What If It Is Four A.M. Or Quarter Of Six In The Morning

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What Really Counts

Is we made it

We got here

To a place other people have no desire

We take a blank screen

Then add a few common words

Rewrite them in a number of different ways

Trying to make them pop

After scrapping a few

Finding the one that works

It is like gloves

You can try on many different types

Some look so nice

But they sure aren't practical

Too expensive or fancy

Then we find one that fits so perfect

Like it was meant to be

That is the one

Some where deep inside

We know it

We don't have to try on ten more pairs

We are so pleased and happy

We will take it

Back to my writing at hand

I may type as fast as my fingers will move

My mind has spirit and drive

I will try my best to complete each thought

One of my biggest downfalls

I love too many things

All at the same time

I forget other people don't see what I see

I just assume they are experiencing the same feelings

A writers high

Each word that hits the screen

It's show time

In my mind I clearly say to myself

Show me what you've got

Prove it to me your worthy

The voice that I hear

Is not my own

Then again

Who else could it be?

So as I quickly place one word down

No need to use paper in pen

Like I use to for so many years

I thought it was the only way

I struggled with the transition for years

More like a transformation

It turned my deepest thoughts into tears

Now my voice has followed me into the computer age

How does it all work?

How the hell do I know

I just know when I type

I good feeling takes over my body and sight

I don't have to eat to feel full

I don't have to sleep to feel refreshed

I don't even have to speak to be heard

It is a wonderful thing

It is like I can hear the birds sing

Well, I am going to stop there

Before someone calls those funny men in the white jackets

To take me to a new home

Where I get to talk to myself plenty

Where they watch my every move

Walls of rubber and nothing sharp within miles

They will dope me up

So I will see plenty

They won't give me a computer

Much less a pen and paper

Afraid I might hurt myself

What we think can drive us to new heights

It can also lead us down a rabbit hole

There is a fine line between the both

Some of us cross the linre and make our way back

Some get lost and never return

Other people understand a lot more than I can comprehend

Psychologists and professors think they know

Writers do what they love

The love carries them through

To the next word or two

Then they hear the most famous words of all

Here comes Santa Claus

Here comes Santa Claus

O.k. lets say the second most famous words of them all

All good things must come to an end

This is no different

The End

© 2021 DREAM ON

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