Mondays are just young Fridays


Even if no one is listening, or
there is nobody who will, your
thoughts need to be more
than silent and still.
Those words stuck in your
throat, or sentences jammed
inside a faulty pen, need to
be released. Captured in
time’s motionless space,
sorrowful admissions and
moments of disgrace, have
to be liberated for the
sake of the self.
The ink, like blood, has to
flow, even when it seems
there is nowhere to go.
Scratch your thoughts into the
darkness, or whisper softly to
this night’s humidity. To do
so, without consideration or
compensation in any form, is
not an act of cowardice, but
one instead of courage.
Words are not words,
until they have been placed,
and left unspoken will only
contribute to a confusion
which will not be erased.
Find strength to say
what remains unsaid, and
let it speak to your true
and authentic soul, even
if nobody is listening,
or there is no one who will.

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