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Sunday, December 4, 2016

I Write Poems Not Posts (forgive me)

Quarter Life Crisis (in iambic pentameter)

Now leave behind a life that's closing in
a thought I'll always have until I die.
If maybe somewhere far beyond, within
another world, my heart could learn to fly
To swoop and soar above the land below
Far from the twisted reach of fears that creep.
Like Icarus, I saw that indigo
Of sky and fell- from high, in love, asleep.
Yet who am I to blame and point away
forever, I'm the master of my fate
A life unspent leaves nothing to repay
So must I find the sky, to elevate
Remember- not one day is given free
And even if you fall, aim for the sea.


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