Stained

Sometimes,

I think about things that I feel

And I just can’t write them down.

Well, today, I can’t write them down.

I’ve been feeling those types of feelings a lot lately.

They call for beautiful, deep poetry

And it grows in my mind

But I can’t write them down.

If I write them down

They become something real.

They become real ideas,

pieces put together.

They become real objects

imprinted on the page

And every time I will see them

They’ll bring those same emotions

I want to throw away

And I forever won’t be able to get rid of them

Because they’ll always be there

Sitting

Sinking deeper into the paper

Never to be erased.

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