I’m barely a writer…

I’m barely a writer and barely a cancer fighter

I find myself removing what brings me down, I accept the losses and feel no lighter

All these poems and pieces, yet still no pay.

They say I inspire and motivate… but all I’ve been doing is crying today.

I hardly feel strong, so does that make me weak?

I mean… I guess I’m holding on, it’s just too much to share, so I choose not to speak.

Instead, I grabbed this pen and this fucking journal, to share everything that’s drowning me

Here goes nothing…


I had a feeling, number three, that you would be my last seed.  Selfishly, I left you because I felt you were something I did not need. I’ve tried to forget about you… but the closer I get to what would be your arrival, I think of what could have been, the more I imagine, the more my heart aches, and my soul bleeds.

I’ve released too much… but this pen is all I have.

This is nothing anyone wants to hear

Nights are long, but at times sleep is a nightmare

There are nights I wake drenched in sweat and fear.

To deflect my terror, I lay awake and picture a better me. I wonder if she is near.

People tell me to speak my desires into existence.

Repeatedly, I try to, but my optimism is not consistent.

Probably because my subconscious feeds me with doubt

Silently twisting my thoughts, it is as if none of it makes a difference.

I’ve always been the rock, but who’s the rock for me?

I have fed the soul of so many, but who’s got a meal for me?

Taking in all the hurt from others, wiping their tears, and here I am grabbing my own tissues.

I helped improve all their flawed blueprints, just to be stuck dealing with my own issues.

I’m barely a writer. But at least I’m honest. I will never be a liar.

I want to love and be open to it…

But I always feel like letting someone in will backfire.

Is this a love story? Or is this some sick plot, meant to conspire…

Will he tear me down piece by piece? Or will we build an empire?

My soul searches his soul, hesitantly hopeful,

Am I the one he wants to spend his life with?

My mind continues to desperately inquire.

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