Do you awaken with words running
through your mind, invading your
dreams like uninvited guests, syllables
begging to be written with no sense of
time? 2:00 am is an hour for artistry;
lids open, pupils dilated by liquid muse.
We are only glorified insomniacs with
overactive imagination and addiction
to forming beautiful sentences laced
in alliteration, rhythm and emotion.

They may critique your use of metaphor,
count your adjectives, strike through ands
and pronouns leaving you with dissected
lines that aren’t yours anymore. Never
settle for someone else’s interpretation of
you! There are plenty of people willing
to be normal. Be authentic. Step out and
step into your own. In this attempt to help
you find your passion, I have answered my
own question. I invite ideas, swirling in
my brain, distracting me, disrupting my life,
cuddling in my head; in my heart. Yes,
I am a poet, hopelessly in love with words.



2 thoughts on “Insomniac

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