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Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.

— The End —