Words

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The thoughts in my head
are the soldiers with which
I enter the battle of paper.
My words march forward.

Inspiration is my steed;
I ride it across the pages
shooting at the emptiness.
My words march forward.

The pen in my hand
fights against the dry white
and streams of ink flow freely.
My words march forward.

These marching words
rage in my mind
stampede across the lines
and pour onto blank sheets.

These marching words,
Now stand as my story.





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