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And a mews I have not a one. I'll not have written when day is done. A flower whispers nothing hence. Though held in by a picket fence. Black eyed susans and subtle spring. Still I can't write a God damn thing. I wish I had an inspiring thought. Though only myself I have brought. I have faith with a single word. That one day I would be heard. So show patience until the morrow. When from my vocab I shall borrow. Words that you shall forget a nigh A poem so beautiful to make you cry. Fin