Equivalent Exchange

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All my inspiration
Comes from my lack of medication
If not for my ball of nerves
I would never have any words
To put down as a rhythmic flow
And enable me to keep my mind in tow
I can’t say for sure
But writing has become my cure
It’s the essence that boils my blood
And keeps me fighting in the world’s mud
But when the hostilities cease
Will I still be able to keep my lease
That being the little talent
Becoming very gallant
In my hand
To the growing book on my nightstand?





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