Sculpting Beasts

I sit in Starbucks:

music from the 60s

sounds overhead.

The air tastes stale—

I breathe

in and out

the recycled thoughts

of others,

including me,

tainted and distasteful.


Today and wonder where my life is going,

where my destiny will take me.

I am a writer:

where will my thoughts take me?

What beasts will I create

and set free

in the minds of others

through the words I sculpt?

Such a responsibility to uphold.

But I know

if I stay true to my soul

these beasts will be contained

within the walls of my mind,

harming only

my mind, body,

and soul.


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