Scattered Notebooks

I’m filled with poetry,
And stories ongoing.
Just to get them started,
And to end them quickly.

I’m full and filled up with destiny,
As much as I can tell.
Only God knows why,
That it cannot be fulfilled.

I’m just wondering,
And maybe just wandering around.
The fact of the matter is,
That I just want some normality.

Maybe just a passion,
That turns into a hobby.
Maybe not so gifted,
As that I create myself to be.
To display the stories,
That I write to long.
A poetry novel,
Or even be the poet of the day.

Maybe I’m jumping the gun,
And starting this to soon.
To be this great thing,
May be so far away.

It just seems to me,
That these quiet days are upon me,
And they seem to blend in together,
And mix and melt away.

So if this is all I have,
Just a few notebooks scattered and torn for you.
For you to read these I feel,
Will confuse you still.
This is because I could not decide,
Where and how to put the words,
And in which order to display them for you.

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