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My Blood is Made of Ink

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I need to write
I need to write
But the life is being drained out of me
My fingers twitch
I need to write
I need my fix
I need it
I need it
But I’m being smothered here
The monsters
They keep my fix just out of reach
I need it
I can’t reach it
I need to write
They won’t let me have the pen
The King’s subjects
They won’t let me have any paper
I need my fix
I need my fix
Energy drains from my soul
Let me
I feel myself overflowing
But where can the excess go now?
They took the container
They took the paper
I need my fix



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