The Writers Curse

Alone in rooms,

I write,

I write, 

I write.

words from the mind to the page, never from the heart to the mouth.

to whisper tearfully that you are the ground on which I stand,

to abound with odes for your impressive presence

i must build a paper empire,

i must carve a thousand poems from my aching bones.

and even then, there is much left to say. 

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