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Crumpled Up PaperCrumpled up paper Scattered all over the floor, Not knowing now, what words to write But, were known, long before. Waste paper basket in the corner With clutter, filled to the hilt, Penned words upon the paper Soul, filled with such guilt. A writer is supposed to write Words, of what they feel, But, words aren't there anymore Heart, needs to learn, how to deal. Copyright Cynthia Jones Mar.19/2007 I don't know about this one. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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