Suppose I’ve been away for a while

I couldn’t even tell you where I went

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and not writing

But I’ve got a lot of posts that will probably remain unsent

See even though all my poems come from my heart

Sometimes I don’t think they’re quite enough

I’ll rip them apart

Start from rough

Read them over and over till I find one I might love 

But

Sometimes I don’t

And somedays I won’t

And I guess that’s okay

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