Don't be afraid to care about someone

I am shy and quiet
writing is my speaking voice
it gives me my say.

My brain’s a vending machine
with the snacks all stuck—
ideas jammed,
buttons broken,
and no one’s got the right coin.

poets are wounded
they feel with both heart and mind
they've lived tragedy.

I've seen paradise
it is just a state of mind
yours differs from mine.

I wrote four words today.
Just four.

I bleed my hours into them.
Each syllable
I
weigh.

Like lifting stones from a dry riverbed,
turning each
over
and
over,
until one feels just right
in my hand.

Carefully
carving,
studying
and playing
with each one:
  Which catches the light just right?
  Which plays well with the others?
  What are you trying to tell me?

But mostly,
I discard.

Four words.

All my labor for the day--
Just four words.

It was a good day.