Caught Up

I know I was slacking,
And my poems were lacking
In existing,
Because, I suppose, I was resisting.

I didn't know how to start
A new year, a kind hear,
And many, many goals,
Unable to take polls.

But here I am, right now, breaking even,
And I'm sorry it took me so long.
Please don't think of me as an unloving heathen,
For I'm sorry if I've made you feel wronged.

It's time and time again to write
The kinds of words that help our souls take flight.
And rush us off into the night,
Until we see the morning light.