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Anya Tullock

Float away,

A bottle goes and holds within it a poem

The things I say they

Drift away and then they’re all alone

Float away the bottle goes

Concealing all that I have said.

I hope one day whoever 

Opens it thinks it's good enough

To be read.

Good enough for sharing

Maybe good enough for the papers or simply

Good enough to be read many decades later.

People publish poems

Not seen until they're dead

meaning no fame or publicity

Can get into their head.

 But we’re all missing something 

A really simple idea, that no one shows their poems

When alive simply due to fear.

Like standing naked in front of a crowd

Your feelings on display.

Like speaking every thought allowed

So bottle them up and let them 

float away.

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