Letters to Myself

When will I get writers block?

I would like some soon, please.

I have other things I need to do

Other tasks I need to complete

I don’t want to keep being

Bombarded constantly by

Poems and songs and prose

Tears and snot

Pouring from my nose onto paper

Dripping and warping my love letters

No one is getting them, they’re for

Myself. I love myself, but I don’t know it

So I have to write letters to me

In order to show it.

Mostly, I just wish for

A bit of silence in my head

I have so many poems

Pounding out so many rhythms

Melodies clashing on top of each other

Goddamn, let me out of here, brother

I need help, and it’s not anything

A doctor could sell me

I think I’m supposed to be

A writer, an artist, a lover

A loser with no money in the bank

Just thoughts, feelings and

Emotions overriding my plans

Just let me write,

Endlessly–

Until I feel alright.

There’s no other way


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