Poem #1656

Unfinished

We have unfinished business you and I,
I’ve let enough time slide by,
I can’t let it go on anymore,
Not writing is something I abhor,
Between death and soul-crushing critique,
I put my pen down and refused to speak,
I had lost the taste for writing prose,
Around myself I let myself enclose,
I let the poetry out, but that’s all,
The desire to write anything else was AWOL,
The passion for prose still isn’t there,
But the need to do it is laid bare,
It’s part of me I have refused too long,
I feel it’s time to right that wrong,

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