I went to paper today,
But had nothing to tell.

Always my pen can sing sweet words
To a reader and his mind's labyrinth,

But the words are lost today
Like water down the drain.

My pen does not sing the rocks in my head;
The quiet becomes disturbing.

However, once the water is gone,
There's no way back up the drain.

Next time I get some words,
I will hold on to them tighter.
 
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