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Why I Write
Somehow out of all the books I’ve read
It never seems quite real to me
I can’t ignore the world inside my head
A pen comes frantically scribbling till it’s dead
In the margins, any space that’s free
Somehow out of all the books I’ve read
Words across a paper, an ink and graphite spread
The words inside me crying to be free
I can’t ignore the world inside my head
Once a newfound plot is said
The stories nearly all are on repeat
Somehow out of all the books I’ve read
In my mind, my plots all surge ahead
Searching for the master key
I can’t ignore the world inside my head
Epiphanies crash upon me in my bed
Forming bridges to make my thoughts agree
Somehow out of all the books I’ve read
I can’t ignore the world inside my head
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