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Amanda Michaels
Poems
Jun 2013
The Creation.
The ***** of the pen,
The splots of ink.
They numb me,
And they create me.
Pouring out my tears,
Out my soul,
For all those who are
There to listen.
I can't help but wish
That I didn't have to do this,
That cloud nine is my home,
But reality must be faced.
The ***** of the pen,
The splots of ink.
They still numb me,
And they still create me.
Wrote this one last minute. Please react, follow, comment, whatever :)
Written by
Amanda Michaels
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