There is a flower in my soul.
I pluck one by one. He likes me.. He likes me not. He likes me..
An observant mind processes cues about the world around me and I am confused.
Or so I would like to be. Confused beyond belief. Belief of my liberation.
Freedom seeps into my pores and I soak it up internally until the day it can be released.
Oh How to feel…
I tell myself not to, while I wonder why I don’t.
I supress myself.
I yearn to stop muffling my inner spirit.
I silence my most profound thoughts and intuitions.
I ache.
From the inside looking out, I observe and contemplate.
I inspect examples of learned history, encased in slides throughout the filing cabinets of my brain.
I refrain.
There’s a story here.
One to be told and heard.
To be observed.
And I watch.
And listen.
And learn.




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