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Poem of the Late Night
It is late night with nothing to do,
plagued by thoughts of my future,
graced by thoughts of her,
annoyed by thoughts of "is this pretentious poem cliche?".
I scratch and claw at the opportunity to express myself,
falling into the accepting arms of the lines on this page. I will always belong to them. And they me. I will always show my true face to them. They will listen attentively. Never judge. Never tell. I am theirs. They are mine. Forever.
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