Really reaching

Really reaching for a task. I hide behind a mask. It’s so hard to see the sun. I feel like I am done. I’ve never felt so small. As I’m crushed beneath the wall. Just reaching for what’s  next. I’m lost in all my text. It’s so easy to let go. Like looking at the snow. But a storm is growing deep. How many words can I keep. It’s not hard for me to reach another level. The words I speak to you come from me and not the devil.  Why should I just waste the lines that always build inside of me. When I can show I’m reaching letting my words just flow for free. I’ve never been a writer reaching for a chance. Because I know I can write in any kind of dance.