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The Girl in Pink

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I'm a poet without a muse
I woke up and I found it gone
Writing is not something I choose,
So I can't simply turn it on

I've written these words many times
I've shared my pain and woe with ink
But, despite my many plain rhymes,
They were all for the girl in pink

But now she has packed up and gone,
I can't scribble a single word
Beneath me, blank pages stare on
This loss of purpose is absurd

The girl in pink must take me back
I am so lost without her flame
With inspiration turned pitch black,
I can write about my hearts shame

I need badly that girl in pink
I can't write without her love here
How can she expect me to think?
I am filled only with great fear





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