When I had stopped writing, I don't know.
There is a pregnant silence all around.
I look at the water sunshine outside my window through my dry eyes.
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the gloom of the poet at not being able to write so well portrayed....but u know what just pick up that broken pencil and write....i'm sure words will begin to flow like water....and the face in the mirror will smile back at you...
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the gloom of the poet at not being able to write so well portrayed....but u know what just pick up that broken pencil and write....i'm sure words will begin to flow like water....and the face in the mirror will smile back at you...