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Title: To you I write this...

by MadMadamMo from North Yorkshire | in writing, poetry, confessional

Forever writing, captured, exciting,
Marks jig around a page,
Play with our idea of structure.
Many fake it to fit,
Squeeze themselves between little lines.
Time I tickle, others snap this lead to sheet.
Bleak with my words,
But think like I must analyse each inch.
Of the pressed flowers between these covers,
I repeat, read and chant, read to read.
Torn by the terrible,
A waste of time.
Sleep - wait to meet this song again.

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