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Tara Star poetry



Return home and regress

Bury ancient truths

Where they nest

Warm smooth blankets

as they soothe and smother

Force yourself into a jigsaw

Where you are a starry peg -

and other



Burnout


Trying so hard, just to cope

Walking round in circles

I felt it was all my fault

There was something in me

I told myself, I was ‘wrong’

I really should try and cover it up

and just push myself

Be 'strong'

It doesn’t matter how much you try, often

People assume it’s a lack of desire

It’s the longing to burn through a task

But, your world has thousands of mini-fires

Where to start? What to do?

On the list, the results can be none

Can work through one little, next thing

The weight lifts, with a buzz from

just that one

But, your heart is always heavy

Don’t know a quiet brain

Coaching, one day, might help with coping

skills

and putting out little fires, with natural rain


Needing eccentric, natural, beautiful, moments

Moving into action, through pain

Looking at the scope of the bigger frames

I’m picturing

and dopamine decor

it’s own, phenomenal, orange flame

Getting entrenched in a wonder maze

Evolving excitement, sparks dying and flying The savage injustice, in losing, the taste

All words that are, instantaneously, erased

The bright, vibrancy of light, air and

that little fix

Like the salt in the sea air

It both damages, with very specific touches

and, as bulls run towards multi-coloured cloths

Gives you a lift

And punches you

Nobody sees the poetic tragedy of the knock







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