Pardon me, have you seen my muse?
She used to come around quite a bit.
Lately she has been derelict in her duties.
I fear that she may have packed her bags and left no forwarding address.
In my younger years, my angst was strong.
My anger was vital and fueled me through dark nights.
My resentments, my secrets, my mistakes stood around my bed.
Staring down at me as I fitfully struggled to sleep.
Yes, youth. Hormones assuring every emotion would be felt to the fullest.
Deep and meaningful, the world around me full of color and detail.
Every thought I scribbled down was another layer of profound brick.
My pen and keyboard blazed with every declaration.
Love hurt, hate hurt, apathy hurt. I needed so much attention.
My esteem was low, my ignorance great, and my mouth didn’t know to shut.
Drama danced around me, picking me up…
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