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When I Was a Rough Draft

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when I was a rough draft I lived a better life,

I lived hand written, my pages all crumpled,

I lived with various SpLink mistakes, revisions to be made,

I lived with red pen correcting my work, a teachers stern face looking over my shoulder,

I lived in a beat up composition book with many other poems,

But then my original was thrown away and now all I am is computer space.





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