I Bared My Soul At Fifteen Years


Please, God, help me realize
That everything is fine.
I’m scaring myself. I might be
Losing most my mind.
At least I have my poetry, God!
Thank you MUCH for that.
What possessed me then,
At fifteen years to
Put a pen to pat.
And patter verses into books
And lend them to my friends?

What joy it brings me now to read
Those very books again.


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