my heart
broken
my heart
stolen
taken by gremlins that reside in the underbelly of society's hunger
a hunger that demands money
more and more of it
derailing me from my direction inward and skyward
my heart - the heart of a writer
knowing nothing about spreadsheets, balance sheets, financial strategy, business plans
taxed - in various ways
taxed, taken, stolen, pulled upon, pummeled, trounced, drowned
wanting only enough oxygen to be able to surrender into the soft down pillow of the creative
not resting there, not relaxing there - just being
pure
without the pull and push
without the mail that delivers another hit
taking one hit after the other, like the chin of a boxer who knows not defense
my heart
my hurting heart
pure beneath, longing within, striving to cry, voice, sing
a song grasped from that which originates inward and skyward
from my heart
free
open
the heart of a writer
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