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Created on: October 07, 2009
The sun lifts up
The moon goes down
I wake up
The typewriter, it stares
The blank paper, it glares
I look away
A penny for my thoughts?
You couldn't pay
My mind to think
They call me
Brilliance
I call them
Idiots
Anyone can piece together
Words, and create
An anology of life
And as I think
I head over
The typewriter, it thrills
The paper, it fills
My words have always had a meaning,
But my meanings finally found the words
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