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Hello Writer
I’m sorry, I have a problem
I was birthed with love and cradled in the arms of an angel
A beautiful woman with sweet-smelling musk and a beautiful smile
I was proud to call her mine
My mother, fountain of wisdom
Her face always lacerated with a beautiful smile
Even though her heart had been pierced by a lance many times

Where am I going with this?
I was born with her love for books
For art, Shakespeare and local literature
I found solace in the sweet smell of pulp
And in the comfort of words
The hidden detail in metaphors and the smirks of satires
I danced to the drums of euphemisms and sang the dirges of tragedies

Hello Writer
I decided to follow this path
With no expectations and no apologies
By making magic across canvas like a true artist should
Splashing ink marks carelessly with my hands and feet
Just like a little baby would, without a care in the world
I found my getaway car from life’s problems
And other times with spirits of the liquid variety

Hello Writer
The problem is I am unsure if this will ever be enough
I’m tired of riding these crests and descending these troughs
The bin is littered with stories of my successes and failures
I feel like a dead man being feasted upon by vultures

Hello Writer
You have this smile on your face
You carry a secret in one tiny crevice of your heart
I need to know what it is so please share
Because I’m stuck, broken and beaten, in the middle of nowhere

Please show me.