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Jul 2016
When I hold my tongue,
My mind becomes a prison,
For it is there,
That every unsaid word,
Is left to dwell.

I make it a point to get up at odd hours,
While the world sleeps,
For that is when,
The uninterrupted beauty of the universe,
Is mine alone.

When I hesitate,
I think of the warrior,
Moving with reckless rage,
And find meaning in the moment.

If you claim to be like me,
I'll label you a liar,
For I would recognize myself,
Instantly,
In another.

While walking down the seashore,
I came across a broken shell,
And pondered on,
How many pieces of me,
Have been taken away.
Peter Joe DiPilato
Written by
Peter Joe DiPilato
537
 
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