I have no right to pick up this pen
I’m no Baudelaire or Shakespeare
all I have is the ever-present sweetness and sadness
that accompany me on life’s winding journey
I’m not sure where I came from
nor of where I’m headed
so many things are out of my control
so many things are in it, too;
the humiliation I often feel is a great teacher,
I have been given so much and often feel that I’ve done nothing good with it,
at the bottom of bottles I’ve found no freedom in euphoria,
but under rainclouds I’ve felt the sun shining in my heart

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