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A poem that describes the curse of being a writer.

He told me,
a girl who writes is a girl to keep
‘cause it’s magic that she weaves.
She could ignite with a roaring flame
all hearts that were deceased…

I told him,
A girl who writes is one to keep,
but maybe one to keep afar…
for a girl who writes cannot keep,
if it is from the heart she bleeds.

This entry was posted in: Poetry

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