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Posted: January 17, 2011 in creative, inspire, poetry

I write my pain
not with the woodgrain of the silent #2
but with the soft swish
of my grandfathers fountain pen

Recording my dreams
my choices
my sins
my joys
my highs and lows

Seeing my words
makes them more real
so I can dilute them
or flavor them
with reason
To make them less painful
or to relive them as they simmer and season.

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