I’ve had to be patient.
Having to keep at it until i figure out my place in this.
All while working to master where my purpose’s placement is.
Summertime sped me up to an uncomfortable pace.

I needed to slow down.
The words that i write, can’t make things right that’s something i know now.
Every day i gain perspective,
My demons and I stand at a showdown. 
They probably have the upper hand,
they whisper to me that i’d be better below ground.

In every poem I jot I search for her in the pages. 
I search for healing to greet me with special hand shakes.
so that the ink bleeds into the pad and better days find me again.
I’m just trying to backpedal from my wits end.

I need some release 😫