It had been years.
My creative self,
hidden, ignored and dusted,
solemnly approached,
wandered
from one thought to another.
Waited in anticipation
to be touched upon.
Yet,
here I laid,
disillusioned,
content with the course
my life was embarking upon.
Fooling myself
with the belief that
this was the focused me,
aiming to reach
for the skies.
(c) boringbug
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