My thoughts screamed, begged, pleaded to be on paper. So I fulfilled their wishes.
My hands could not endure any pain of procastination and so they tortured me with guilt.
I lied so many times to my own face. Something only a human being would do.
My Soul yearned for a higher pleasure and found it in my saddest moments.
My heart followed great poets only to be met with an average writing skill author.
I do not know where this road will lead m...
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