There once was a time
when my words did rhyme
now it's all barren
creativity shriveled, the rivers run dry
Dreamt of soaring the skies
of feeling that natural high
of being in a state
that would block this ache
For I fell hard, twice was I struck
but it didn't suffice, consider it my bad luck
hah came down thrice and so I jotted down words
and the words bloomed into rhymes
nothing is true and so ceased my grief
from days of spite, moved onto a new leaf
till I forgot my past and chaffed
and to my horror wasn't able to pen even riff raff
Now I think it was the pain
of knowing what was looking
and that I was zooming
to something I knew was my bane...
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