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Nov 2012
How sad is it when a writer cannot write,
                                               a singer cannot sing,
                                                       a dancer cannot dance.
words, melodies, rythms, are all in my head,
then it comes along
                                    BAM! the music is dead,
all of a sudden the fiercest dread,
                                    the strongest depression,
weigh on my worn out chest; opression.
09-12-12 I just found it!  Probably needs editing, oh well.
Megan Hoagland
Written by
Megan Hoagland  Inside my notebook
(Inside my notebook)   
508
   --- and Timothy
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