I write my soul
To process things outside my control
Not everything felt is good
It may feel good
But some are just a welt
Even when it was pleasureful in the beginning
Sometimes the ending is just
Well, meh, in the end
Like a fox that has caught the hen
What do you do when you’ve reached the end
I suppose you pick up the pieces
And begin again
I write my soul
So the things I can’t control
Don’t take their toll
You have to open the levee
To not drown in all that is heavy
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