When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
Writing is hard when you can't find the words
to stir your soul
and when you want to shift the subject,
but the same thing is always on your mind,
and when you find yourself going back in cirlces
and when your poision is your antecdote.
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