laying on my bed
thinking of all the words
i should of said
lost in the worlds of good and bad
happy and sad
hypnotized by the lines on the paper
and the smell of a new page
its the only way, the only way to get out my feelings
death love hate
so many words
so less time
my poems don't even rhyme
as soon as a thought comes to mind
get out my notebook
and start a new poem
not willing to focus on anything else
only the words in my...
Notebook
 
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