The mind is a road that contains
The imagination its what we do with
It to make it worthwhile.
Not many adults use it, a spark
About to fly ready to stray alone
In the world.
Writers must find that deep inside
If not their words, voice, sparks
Will sit there and fade away shrivel
to nothing like a body decompose fades
away into the earth's soil. Its a way to set
Me free.
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