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Amelia Sapp May 2019
catching the hesitation that these silent
worlds glaze

meaningless. smoke. echoing.
though an unworthy lover
stays,
some days they will
clutter the page
with a massive catalogue*
of stuff
wading through all of it
is akin to strolling
among an endless ball
of fluff

to-day one couldn't go
venturing around
in the submission's
log-jam
looking for that hidden
piece lodged under
the fully booked
metropolitan tram

tomorrow there will be
more and more
contributions on the listing's
file
it's a sure bet that
the sifting and sorting is going to
take quite a long
*while
Secret-Author Sep 2016
Spoken Word Poetry

The words just don't come together
I choke.
And it's easier for me to think
If I'm not really looking.
But instead
If I just keep to myself
With my head down low
Everything seems to work.
Time passes by
Rather than this stagnant space I'm used to
Where I can feel myself  letting you down.

It's horrible,  truly
A dull ache in my heart that is always there.
The steady beat of disappointment
Not. Good. Enough.
Not. Good. Enough.
Not. Good. Enough.

But I am O.K
In lots of ways.
Just the ways that are not conventional.
Or useful. Well,
Not to you anyway.
I know I have a beauty in me somewhere.
Just the words don't come together
I choke.
And it's easier for me to think
If I'm not really looking.
But instead
If I just keep to myself
With my head down low
Everything seems to work.
Time passes by
Rather than this stagnant space I'm used to
Where I can feel myself letting you down.

It's horrible, truly
A dull ache in my heart that is always there.
The steady beat of disappointment
Not. Good. Enough.
Not. Good. Enough.
Not. Good. **Enough.
Spoken Word Poetry.
Who I Am

— The End —