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All the wrong words rhyme
This poetry thing is getting old
And it’s hard to break patterns
It’s hard to be constantly doing something that terrifies you
So here is a messy clump of words with no organization
Here’s me, and I'm not sure who I am without poetry
It might be starting to fade because I've worn it out
But I don’t want to stop
At least not yet
Poetry is the only way I am allowed to rebel
That is without suffering the consequences
Writing is my way of running and fighting
Running and fighting is all I know
Running and fighting is all human nature knows
A lack of life and sleep makes me want to quit,
Running and fighting
Should I try to make the right words rhyme,
Even if it makes me more tired?
I guess that’s what I’ll do,
To make it feel like I’m getting somewhere,
With my endless, restless, wandering…
Wandering…
Wandering…
Wandering