Special

I thought myself different
A young age
I felt special
Over time my inner light
dimming
The workings of life
age
experience
Raising another being
I find myself thinking
maybe
I’m not
Here
an average person
who dreams
as everyone else
Put to side
to provide
The age of exceptional
I wrote before
quick fame writers
Built audience
with internet
timing
My words bled on
yellowing paper
from days in shade
Closed notebooks
journals
collected like
small figurines on shelves
special in my mind
I find no time
to reach
all eyes and ears
to inspire
Is it enough to remain
a blessing in mine?
Words
falling on deaf ears
Hearts not beating
or needing
my thoughts to stay
connected or relevant
in this way.
I don’t know
If I’ll ever stay
special

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