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I've been staring at a blank canvas like a poet who has lost his heart I miss the days words bled into paper like seamless art These days it's chatgpt whenever I need a soothing sound It's ironic, turning to an algorithm to give emotions to a dying craft There's a lot I wanted to say to you, but much is hidden in the fear of not being good enough...I'm sorry it took me this long before I could pour into your life, I know these words can become a prophesy and a life line so you shouldn't have to ask. God gave me freely but I've been holding back. I've erased so much because it never sounded like me. lately I've been focused on sounding real than being real,so I lived so much on the surface my pieces lacked originality, a poet's peace comes from his reality but I wonder when it became ok for me to stop imagining. I was supposed to be the right man for you, but all I wonder now is how much of me is true. seems like honesty is overdue. I know it...