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Mar 2
I lay out the paper
I pick up my pen
I rattle my head again and again
Yet nothing emerges, I draw a blank
Just like this paper, all but blank
This mind far from empty, my thoughts race
Yet I can't get them down, can't find a pace
This mind of mine, so sporadically poetic
This mind of mine, equally pathetic.
Crummy
Written by
Crummy  17/M
(17/M)   
125
     Skylar, DeltaFound and leo
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