I scroll through drafts

old rants, and musings

interesting, a few boring

so much of controversy

splashing enlightenment.

Perhaps I should rework,

rekindle dying flames.

People love old stories,

advice from grannies.

I could just rephrase

the title and the lines

No one would know

that I’ve reused words.

No one needs to know

of that great block

blocking my world.

Because none knows

it is that intimidating

to stare, sitting on a table,

at a blank page, unable.


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