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In a Matter of Speaking…

When I speak, is it me?
Since I am not an architect of language
nor a visionary of communication,
it seems I am fraudulent.
A plagiarist of lyrical proportions
A hypocrite from the Shakespearean ilk.
When I boast, is it praise?
Since I am not in a Renaissance
nor an original work of art,
it seems I am a carbon copy.
An outline that has been traced
empty space in between dots, ready to connect.
When I live, is it alive?
Since I am not a picture of perfect health
nor am I a spotless lamb,
it seems that I am a broken heart.
A refugee of lifeless accelerations
a nomad in a land of homeless reservations.


About R. Ward

A husband, father, teacher, and struggling man of God.

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