Nothing can be done
The ink smears the page
I rush to the next line
A forced race
I have to do better
The words must align with one another
Become lost in a trance
Then the page can dance
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 7:31 PM UTC
Nothing can be done
The ink smears the page
I rush to the next line
A forced race
I have to do better
The words must align with one another
Become lost in a trance
Then the page can dance
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