9/30 – national poetry month

Give me my life back 
Stop allowing all the negativities to infiltrate my thoughts 
Stop allowing… 
And just like that the inspiration is lost again 

It’s like I have moments of inspiration that are beautiful and then they leave 
I would love to regain my mental clarity 
I don’t want life to bog me down with its problems 

Where did my creativity go?
Did it get lost under all of these hats I must wear?
Daughter. Sister. Friend. Journalist. Reporter. Editor. Student. Lover.

Is it hiding under one of those?
Or is it hiding under the hat named Julia?
Is it tucked away…

And just like that, it’s gone again
My words flow eloquently until I manage to place myself within close proximity of the root of my issue
The root of myself

Is this a poem of exploration?
How did this even turn into a poem?
How did I manage to craft something that so eloquently explores my missing eloquence?

I almost had an answer. And fuck. It’s gone. Again.
My repetitive rhetoric has dissipated and repetitive diction has taken its place.

I hardly beat words like this
Why am I beating words? Why am
I not focused?
Why can’t I answer these questions?

Why can’t I push out the answer?


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