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Why Write


Michael Faircloth

Words build up inside

Fighting to be reviled

Distracting me from all thought

Fearing my sanity will be killed

Diversion will cease to work

As time allows the pressure to build

I must permit these words of my soul

Onto paper to be spilled

As they bleed from my fingertips

Chaos of my world is stilled

The universe will grant me peace

Then my soul no longer feels ill

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