My Writing's Shit

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My writing is shit

An over-simplified English

Which I dare to call "home"

But it's my shit

And it is glorious shit

Glorious, badly-written, over-simplified shit that will never change or shape the world

I have often been an optimist about these sorta things

But isn't that a bit optimistic?

My words have no strong political agenda

They don't teach most people shit

They simply are 

They are in that undefinable, lucid, strange phenomenon we call 'art'

Something which you can enjoy on a Saturday evening, shut off, and then sit down to the table; unchanged

And honestly I don't need it to be more

I am fine with being a so-called "Pause-klovn"

As long as I can steal a bit of yr. time

Lend me yr. ears

For procrastination is still the thief of time

And let you, me, us enjoy a pure moment of me wasting everybody's time

With a bit of my rehearsed, dry humour...

This is probably where there should be some clever thing tying it all together

But then again

My writing is shit 

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