This mind has been wasted.
Wasted by the meaningless words
Strung together with a melody.
These claim poetry but have no passion.
Oh for the days when the words would come �
When a phrase came as easy as breathing.
When my feelings could speak by themselves
And were not weighed down with stress
And longing for�anything.
But now activities choke the life from my mouth.
My mind is frazzled with deadlines
And what-ifs.
And I play with my heart -
Tossing it here and there,
Wondering if the one I�m tossing it to
Is as in love with me, or
If I�m just playing a game�
He looks like a good catch.
And now, with an alarm, another day
Begins and will end before it starts.
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