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The Saddest Disease
I can’t think of anything to write,
my ideas, like a bird, have taken flight.
I sit here in my chair,
all alone, waiting for an idea.
At this point I would set my hair
on fire or get diarrhea
for an idea that would help me write
a poem.
I might be up all night,
or dissolve into atoms
and die.
The sad truth is...
“sigh”
I have writers block.
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