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Life be finicky
Life be frolicking
Life’s within a page
But all the books I should be reading
And all the one’s I shall
Sit up in my head waiting to be read
Waiting for their spines to bend
For words be dancing
Flowing like ballets
The world’s our stage
Yet all in my head
All beauty of string slipped words
Tell all the this and that’s of beautiful girls
It shall spin tales of voyeurism
Leap divinity from the dog-ears
Twirl every imaginative thought
Into nothing but wonder and ism’s
Yet;
every night with broken heart
All I’d hope to know,
I shall not.
And though it’s wrong I can’t read them all
And every idea speaks a call
My ink will run to not be forgot
Faster than words
Faster than Keyes
Faster than my knees will lock
I shall pray to the gods
I shan’t be forgot
However life’s sick irony
Despite it’s knots, is
That in the end they shall be the plot



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