Pen puts in work
I write sonnets nightly, You have taken your gift of writing to lightly, Your so unlike me. In a windowless room with a thousand candles burning, Im at the incursion of learning the twisting and turning in my wordings, I’m so determined. Storing information like fiber optic wires, My veins are on fire, A wildfire are my desires from the words i conspire. My pen is dipped with the blood of the lamb, Tattooed both hands with the name of my clan .
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