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Mar 2018
These words can't write sober.
Atleast that's what I told myself before I took the alcohol from my pen.
There were no more memoirs, mediocre or mundane.
There was plagiarism and perfectionism. Not a word had left the page.

And when I gave the pen his requested drink, sick did he become.
Copious prose spewed from his mouth; a ***** of ceaseless release.
And that's the story of how I found happiness, and realized it's not for me.
Michael
Written by
Michael  25/M
(25/M)   
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