Poem: pressure and optimism

It’s a no nonsense sort of thing, this pressure, this push on my consciousness. Not a cotton candy and puppies thing, or a blue skies your my sunny day thing, but a real and present push.

Certainly, it grows from within and without, driving me to soar. I have a blanket optimism life is going to be figured out. I’m not sure who owns the optimism, it could be me.

If it were solely my own, I wonder if it would wander more often.


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