Where It All Began

Walking the streets, down to the pier.
Its where I went for my mind to clear.
In the comfort of the morning sun,
I would write for hours down by the pier.
There is a bench that I engraved.
It still sits there.
It survived the hurricane.
It saved.
It was there, that I found my voice with words.
I was just a teen,
but that bench was everything.
It was the place I'd disappear to at fourteen.
And now, I'm twenty three.
Still piecing it all together.
Still writing.

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