When I Can

When I don’t figure skate
It feels as though my legs will run away without my body

When I don’t play my violin
My arms are noodles, only fit for cutting onions and causing tears

When I don’t write
Everything stays in, and I become a boring average

When I skate
I can fly

When I make music
My fingers have a purpose

When I write
I can compose poems, and myself

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