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My attention is never focused,   always claimed by an idea needing to be written down. My heart beats out the rhythm and rhyme of something unwritten, My mind, full of    gears that are constantly turning,    producing and rewriting lines. With my mind, body and soul Captured I become slave to the pen
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Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
A poet is a slave to the pen
My attention is never focused,   always claimed by an idea needing to be written down. My heart beats out the rhythm and rhyme of something unwritten, My mind, full of    gears that are constantly turning,    producing and rewriting lines. With my mind, body and soul Captured I become slave to the pen
Izzy24
Written by
18/F
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
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