I train my mind not to wonder,
But it’s most precious thoughts are those,
That I did not try to build or find,
But float into my waking repose.

My mind’s sight no longer clouded,
By creative whims or urge,
For in it’s age brimming full,
With darker thoughts, all converge.

And would you wish to break free?
To lay in that inspired light,
For liberation has a cost, a price,
Could it be idleness and plight.

For only the tragic are moved,
Do the inspired seek the forsaken,
And keep their purpose drawn close,
Are we to know what truely made them.

So why not wake into my own story,
Shape what was truly gifted to me,
For aren’t we all cursed and broken,
If I plead my creativity to be wild and free.

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