The Process.

When I find this life hard to understand , you’ll find a pen clutched in my hand.

When my thinking starts to stutter, the scratch of the nib helps clear the clutter.

When the days been bad , I’m feeling tense, a few lines written turns crazy to sense.

When the words flow from my hand , I’m rescued from lifes clawing quicksand.

Writing is my haven , for when I feel forsaken, when I feel confused it helps to soothe lifes hard truths.

If you’re feeling lost or forgotten , grab a page and fill it to the bottom.

It does’nt have to make much sense, but try all the same, your imaginations immense.

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