Clear mind, Clear day
it doesn’t even explain
why do I use words
if I could write in feelings instead of verbs
I would
There is something in the air
It’s recognized not a feeling that’s rare
A million people to the door
Yet still a lonely store
We sell ourselves too short for far too much more
More than most are willing to pay
We get measured, critiqued, and weighed
Only to find we are still alone
We phone around we phone home
But it’s not home
It’s still out there somewhere all alone
Waiting, found waiting just the same
Little do we all know home has a name
-Aaron Johnson
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