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I feel like a shell; Empty and hollow.
Filled with nothing but air and meaningless words.
The words that once came so effortlessly and freely,
Now seem forced by frustration and lack of passion.
The passion is there; It courses through my veins.
It's suppressed by frustration and and diluted by obligation.
It's breaking me down, and I'm but a shell.
My spirit is what holds the walls together.
I'm so inspired to write, but it just feels like the words aren't coming.
What's wrong with me?
The Girl Who Loves You
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