What we do as poets
Is find the rock that anchors our soul
Love
Hate
Hunger
Art
Apathy
Excitement
Bemusement
We take that simple
Yet concrete part of ourselves
And describe every angle of it
Every
Painstaking
Angle
Point of View
Side
Part
Piece
Until one day
We write the core of it
And it dies within us
Gone
Disappeared
Fled
Moved on
Has Become
Alive
On Paper
Then we wander aimless
Our anchor uprooted
Until we find
Another
And spend another lifetime
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