He knew it was best to
follow his gut when it
came to his scribblings,
to let his stomach tell him
the truth, when his desire for
approval tried to
lead him astray.
He knew that every poem
was born from a need,
each one a mystery,
yet all of them on a mission,
a fight, or flight,
to reveal his life.
He knew it best to
follow his gut, but
those damn buttons,
send and post and share,
so easy to push, so easy to
lead him into temptation,
when he knew it best to
follow his gut, to
attend to his heart.
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