A poem called poems

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a Poem called Poems

by Dillon Collins

The pens in my hand the paper is waiting,

both for the poems i may be creating.

But my mind draws a blank, as does the paper,

it seems as though there is nothing i can say here.

But i'll give it a try, for in my mind it's do or die,

here comes the cliff, lets try to fly.

My life is a mixture of glad memories and sad times,

the latter of which is marked by faintly dinging chimes,

(MOOD SHIFT)

No ones intruded but this line has eluded my severely overtaxed brain.

All of my dreams and most of these things are combining to drive me insane.

So i think i'll end it for now before i pass out and my face suddenly hits the floor.

So i hope i left you all with something to remember and i hope your not running for the door.

So for now it's goodbye, i gave it a try,

and now finally it's the end.

I thought it was quite witty and rather neato and nifty,

i think i just started a trend.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Sep 24, 2009 ⏰

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