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these fingers type…

When it rains it pours
And I wish I could contain all the drops
And let them flow in a direction
Away from me

Where I would have amnesia
And never know of what I throw away
How many words do we say and write and spill and casually drop
Creating monsters

Racing to the end of this scene
Trying to lose my tracks
But they’ve skidded somewhere deeper
Crashing here

When will these letters crash
And speak so boldly over me
That it silences the
Falsehood of me

With a word One spoke
That changed everything
And that change is
What I crave

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Author:

I am an aspiring and up and coming writer. Dubbed the wondering wanderer. Do come check out my stories.

One thought on “these fingers type…

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