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Sunday, January 9, 2011

I do not write, I spill my soul.

I have not intentionally inquired such raw desire to be heard,
Oh these words,  they come to me, oh so natrually, factually,
Words, pry my hands open, grasp a pen at the very moment.
Rhymes freely flowing,
Words overloading,
I do not think it over, I do not even focus-
Let it out, Make it heard,
This pen to paper, Spark it, Light it, Let it burn,
Out of control, take your turn, I'll spill my soul. It is my fuel- Afterall, my mind is out of my control.

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