if i were a poet,
secrets would spill
from deep within me,
coating the
page
like the blanket of night.
my words would
shine like
glistening stars,
and my audience
would wish upon
my metaphors.
but alas, i am not a poet
and these are just ordinary
words
secrets would spill
from deep within me,
coating the
page
like the blanket of night.
my words would
shine like
glistening stars,
and my audience
would wish upon
my metaphors.
but alas, i am not a poet
and these are just ordinary
words



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