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That’s how it started.
I have been crawling through the sticky mud that is my life.
All I’ve known is the damp.
The unclean feeling of my mistakes.
I was just lounging on my sofa.
My body in the position of a good, beautiful woman just been murdered.
That’s how it feels.
To be a soul capable of changing the world but have poverty slow you down to the point where you’re not even moving at all.
Capitalism had killed me.
The class system is a bullshit stepladder to heaven.
My free time spent in self pity because the news and social media had already branded me lazy.
That’s their goal.
To become the labels they give us.
I sit up from my crime scene.
And take a breath.
That’s how she started.
From my window the sun was about to rise from the clouds and at the same time we both looked at each other.
At first there was light.
Then there was a mother’s warmth brought to my face.
It was a moment that should’ve only lasted a second.
I felt eternity in five seconds.
Staring straight into the sun, she not only probably do some visual damage to my eyes but she burned a hole into my life that I could finally look through and see things differently.
She restarted me.
I got up.
Poured my soul onto paper.
So hear me.
Hear the sun speak through me.
The sun is a poet,
And so am I.