The words flow continuously from my pen
Yet they seem empty
I write about nothing and
Yet everything’s in my head
The words, jumbled.
My mind and soul, depressed
My thoughts shift from
One thing to the next, the opposite
To the same thing to
A new thing, and old thing
Spurts and fragments of
Worlds longing to be
Patiently waiting for
This moment to arise
And yet, I feel like I let them
According to religion
I write about
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