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Writer's Block
Why don’t I just have at it then?
Rip the lines to fluttering sheds
And leave them lying beneath my feet
So that while my steps will contain
Worn bits of truth
My head won’t dare obtain it
For my words are hollow enough
To take long flight into straining ears
That feed minds ignorant enough
To believe that meaning’s breast
Beats profoundly behind the ink
When in all honesty
Even I know not the language I speak anymore
It isn’t the easy swell it once was
Its’ jagged confusion
Snags on the eyes of the observant
Gazes piercing my rasping tongue
Until I am left with nothing more
Than the ragged colors I slathered on myself
A feeble disguise, nothing more
For they have taken every ounce of truth
I once kept hidden in the back of my throat
With the excuse that I am simply waiting
For the right moment to expel their might
Though their ghosts have long since left
The lifeless shells
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