I spilled my fucking beer

Sitting in my bed
In a puddle of beer that cost more
Money than I had to spend
Reading lines written
by a man whose misery has
informed my art,
my life, and my words

Wondering if I will ever
escape the prison
I’ve built around myself
A fortress of cowardice
Guarded by fierce apathy.

I found this poem  that I wrote in June of 2014.

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