In the silence
there is always
"It isn't enough"
because nothing is enough.
nothing I do is enough.
nowhere I go,
no words that I write
no poetry
is
ever
enough.
This soul of mine
is eternally restless
and what if
this is all it ever says
"It isn't enough"
what if
this is as good
is it's going to be
for a while?
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