I took a journey
with myself.
Pretending to be
someone else.
Carefree and
unashamed
to think I was
important.
Such foreign
feelings would
usually be abhorrent.
No one knew
who I was
so I did not care.
Freedom to express
and lay myself bare.
All journeys must
come to their end.
And back to our
own world
we transcend.
The 50 year old poet 
I keep thinking if I could run away to a different city and start anew.
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Nice one!
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Thanks
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