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I want to write
Words that will never stop flowing
I want to write of all the times
I’ve hated myself
And loved myself
And I want to be able to write
At any point in the day
But the truth is
I’m tired
Lately, it’s been hard to find the right words
They are there
Somewhere in the jumbled masses
I’m worried about
Silly things
And I wish I wasn’t
it would be nice
To lay my head down
And fall to dreams
Without trying to search
Through each pile of broken letters
Just for one night.
I want to feel like I’m not missing a piece of me
Like I’m whole
And nothing can be shifted
But instead
I look at the blinking cursor
Along with all the words that I wish I could write
All of the rhymes I want to spill
All the stories I want to tell
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I get writer's block sometimes. Poems lose their beats and end up sounding like a bunch of jumbled words. It's not pretty.