I cannot write, my muse has gone, left me alone, to carry on, so all my poetry, it's true, is nothing more, than children do, and all the words, I once adored, have left me now, and left me bored. and strings of diatribe, once writ, are nothing more, than total shit!
Reason for writing:
trying to write one night, and just nothing coming out. sorry my poetic humour is so pathetic!
Birth sign: Aries
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