Time took a knife and plunged it into youth’s belly.
As the blood dried then cooled,
Monotony imprisoned living.
The vibrant shades of life that Mother bore faded.
The air although light seemed heavy.
Footsteps followed a known path without meaningful purpose.
What purpose?
What is my purpose?
To create?
To write?
To inspire?
In hopes of finding
Peace.
In hopes of quelling
The rebellious thoughts that live in my mind.
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SONYA A WATSON 