This poem expresses my difficulty in working with two worlds. A Fiction world and a Non-Fiction world.

And the tears well… they heal the pain in the process.

    Thoughts become notes… forming into quotes.

  If I don’t write them down they’ll drown in my mouth closing my throat.

  This is a forced habit… the dark side of talent,

  Having to control two worlds by organizing my fanatic…

  Everyday, p a i n  in my b r a i n... 

  But it’s… not my fault it’s… that I’m a… writeaholic.

  My mind would ask me,

  “what will it be?”

  “The usual?”

  “Yes… I have to… its… constitutional.”

  Wouldn’t you figure? physical tougher than a signature…

  Engraved into this earth dyeing to display my minds picture.

  But then… My eyebrows relax/

  Remembering passed tracks.

  twenty six muscles lift as my mind drifts closing my lids…

  Realizing to get passed the view,

  you have to understand the person in your shoes.

  I do.

  Vision becomes clear.

  Cleaning my blurry eyes with these… passionate tears.

  Leaking treatment, Thats what I always feared.

  But the swelling will eventually just be a memory.

  Remembering In result…

  weakness healed into strength;

  due to a little bit of salt.

- B.H

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