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Take from me this poetry

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70 words 70 words

It is meritocracy

It is cumbersome.

It demands too much of my blood.

I don't care about these words any more, nor does anyone.

It grinds out like shards of cheese.

I cant.

I don't want to.

All I do is whine and hurt.

Drugs are better.


Perhaps death has one more poem to be written on my gravestone

"Here lay pauper and a poet - he loved being nither."



Written by Time
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