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Monday, November 15, 2010

writer's block

the words are gone--
torn from me
like homes torn from the ground in a storm.
windows of poetry stained
with the blood of my heart
lost from the wells of its chest.

the tears come slowly,
like a funeral procession.

fingers shake as they
slide the pen across the page.
it's over.

it's done.
my madness has stolen my mind.
there is no hope for this hopeless boy.

I'm cold.

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