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Literature Text
I pick up my pencil and get ready to write.
I sit there for a while, my eraser I bite.
I stare out the window but there's no inspiration in sight.
I see only the sun, looking at me with its rays so bright.
I bang my head on the table.
My mind not at all stable.
It feels like someone caged my brain and added a lock.
I throw my pencil in anger and curse my writer's block.
I sit there for a while, my eraser I bite.
I stare out the window but there's no inspiration in sight.
I see only the sun, looking at me with its rays so bright.
I bang my head on the table.
My mind not at all stable.
It feels like someone caged my brain and added a lock.
I throw my pencil in anger and curse my writer's block.
Literature
Beginning
One word... love;
Three words... I love you!
Why did I start loving you?
Why am I writing this?
Was it destiny? Was it fate?
May our beginnings never end...
Like a drop that starts the rain
Like a spark that starts the fire
My love for you started in vain
Please look forward to the next chapter...
Forever yours, but never mine...
No spark, no fire
No tears, no rain...
My dear... I might regret it
But dear... not in the beginning.
Literature
A fairy tale without lies
When I used to think of you,
I'd look at that picture of you with that fairy tale smile,
The puffiness underneath your eyes,
A smoldering feature beneath the longing pain coloring the background of my mind.
So my first impression of you was maybe a bit off,
As are my denials,
Of our heart connection,
And that maybe someday I will find you the one to see in love.
People talk about all the things in life to go back to.
I only think of you to hold on to.
And every touch of your love sends warmth in a way,
Where I could almost smell a fairy tale without lies.
Literature
The Feeling of Love
I often wonder
When I look at you
How that butterfly
Gets in my chest
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Comments44
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Ah, yes, writer's block sucks.
Even if I try to do something else instead, in a way I still want or feel the need to write, but can't at the same time. It's a curse.
Even if I try to do something else instead, in a way I still want or feel the need to write, but can't at the same time. It's a curse.