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Sitting in this quiet room
Looking around
Listening to the sound of muffled coughing
Pencil scrawling across pleading papers
Thoughts coming alive
Words twirling and dancing
Then I look down at my paper
Waiting for something to come to mind
My paper longing
For its dancing friends
Fifteen minutes go by with the tick tick ticking of the clock
Still nothing
The bell rings
I look down at my paper and cringe
My paper cries as its lowered into the vast
Monsterous mouth
That is my backpack
Where it waits for its dancing friends

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