This is my voice, there are may like it, but this one is mine.
My voice can resonate and reverberate.
It is innate to my creation
Words will flow like water carving.
To feed those who are starving,
Starving from lack of purpose, lack of meaning.

The poetic beauty of nature, for all of us to be learning.
Instances of raw reality, cascading in torrential fall.
Grasping at the straws of our clouded memories.
Seeking glory in future plans, actions, stories.

The human condition to realize something great.
To find that clarity among the foggy masses.
Love and acceptance is the aim of this great hunt.
Purpose found, bought, gagged and bound.
Bereft of the bliss found in the journey.

To be forthright in compassion and resplendent in personality.
My voice can construct rivers and carve forests.
These instances will form and shape to the letters in my
Voice.
Oration in time can create or destroy ideals and vices.
This is my voice, there are many like it, but none so powerful.
To envision my perspective, garnered through suffering, in my eyes.

Anxiety

Intimate relationships will implode on themselves.
With this air of self-applied expectation.
Shameful retreat to the nest of self-comfort.
Barriers bulging from pressure exerted.
Crying at this immense wall I constructed.

Formulated in the prescient years of biological manifestation.
Boundless thought process, entraps my core.
Abject silence through pensive overwrought emotions.
Quiet thirst for knowledge and perspective.
Backfiring.

Wrapped in intrinsic patterns, borne through thought.
Introverted, but now unable to function.
The release of opiates, of alcohol.
Freedom of expression, assertiveness in opinion.
This spiral downward is so liberating.

Paradigm shifting without a clutch, abrupt.
Sobriety hails me this entrenched set of behaviours.
Plenitude of opportunity to rally my senses.
Forging ahead the means of coping.
Tiny steps with each foot.