It doesn’t matter how hard I have tried
how many hours I spend
refining my talents, working on my projects, living the dream.
Missed buses, missed connections, I have never flown above it all
Until I put words on a page.
My stories are marks I have left on the world
they are bruises that will never heal
screams that will never end
cries that begin at dusk and creep like fog along the ground
I am very good with that one small thing I can do.
Daily Addictions Prompt: Practice