I hold back
I can't help myself to get out
So I stay frozen, harnessed to nothing
I got the future in my cross hairs, sometimes
but I flinch, pull back
don't take the risk
stay where I am, who I am for now,
but how many nows do I have?
the answer pulls me apart in all directions, so I stay still
But you can't, I suppose
Who can hear a poems's whisper on a windy night?
LIFE OF A POET - JOHN BUCHANAN
4 hours ago