Several weeks ago we had the kind of day that draws you outside. The sun shone strongly, there was a nice breeze. So I had about 30 minutes of free time and I sat by our bell tower and started to do something I rarely do anymore. I wrote. Here are the results.
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Pen to Paper
Thought to reality
it is the point where you can't deny
the things you know
There are few things scarier
than admitting to others what you can't
admit to yourself
Because the actions of others are, in a word
Unpredictable
it is knowing eyes will watch
minds will judge
mouths will judge
It is pen to paper
Thought to reality.
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There is a time that everyone thinks to themseves
Okay, now I'm an adult
Alright, now is when my life starts
But when is that?
When is that time?
Is it at a certain age?
Or after a certain event?
Or is it simply
a state
It lies dormant until the mind, the emotions are
ready, prepared to recognize what always
existed
But for now
we go on, using
the "boys will be boys"
"girls will be girls" "teenagers
will be teenagers"
excuse.
But that is all it is.
An excuse.
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