The Fire

My whole life I thought I couldn’t write poems.

I didn’t know how,
Then one day when my world felt like it was caving in on me from every possible angle,
I cried at my nine to five desk job
and felt something in my stomach
my mind
and my heart
A tangible itch

Later that night I realised that they quite literally write themselves

You need only wait
and hurt

And after that the whole thing became so much easier to understand
But that much harder to face

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