biggest soul, yet soulless. trapped, & tortured.
no fortune teller can tell of my misfortunes.

no crystal ball, can anticipate my fall.
no known living sage, can fully explain my rage.

cursed..
by the universe to carry all its burdens,
the real problem of a writer, is simply his observance..

empathetic, to a fault. insightful,& bad verbally..
since every word jotted holds permanence, & eternity..

an obsessed pamphleteer,
philosophical, & weird.
and no that lone poet, hadn't ever shed a tear,
but routine, nightmares would persevere.
what a year,
truthfully most of it, i was hardly here,
Momma said come back, but it was hard to hear.

only those, who share my emotional connect,
understand, the universe& all of its intent.

whats the story behind the curse,?
an innate gift, given to a few chosen upon birth.

willing to beautifully articulate, a disharmony..
∈ the same breathe smile at the woes.
too many, muffled screams of tortured, soulless writers..
who have the biggest souls..




-afj