• R. E. Maynard

A Morrow’s Reinvention for Passions Bestowed

Each day that I awaken to those varying degrees of emotions felt, so have I portrayed a tired man’s soul, one who has dealt with the worst and triumphed in the best of times.

Humbled by mere chance have I accepted what represents the best of my psyche personified in creativity, as passions run deep in coursing veins and have flowed through my heart with earnest desires, while I have accomplished every dream dreamed ever true in spite of struggled emotions rooted in dreadful mourning ties to life.

I have fathomed one spirited affair after another with these imaginable themed moments in time, calculated blessings and gained by walking into the infinity of my natural light. As I learned wholeheartedly to shine on a deserving world, reflected in light of me, while crippled anxiety compelled my will to succeed beyond the self-destructive measures for reinventing an identity more so above and thereafter.

Compassion lent to the respected fortitude for happiness gained, grown through newly formed perceptions of my realities falsely wavered in the blood, sweat, and tears gained. Sanity shaped a mold of sincerity, as I feel love strongly now—more than ever before. Self-love awakened my morrow’s hopeful promises, each drawn breath does tell of a determination willfully known. My morrows reinvented every passion bestowed, as I admired the creation of every new day foretold.

I am simply a man of many passions grown on the dawn of every morrow’s past.

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