INK STAINS MY FINGERS AS THE PEN TAKES CONTROL THOUGHTS BARELY REGISTERED FLOW FORTH FROM MY SOUL WORDS WRITE THEMSELVES ON EACH NEW PAGE EAGER TO BE RECORDED FREE FROM THEIR CAGE I TRY TO WALK AWAY PUT DOWN THAT PEN BUT THE INK BECKONS ME TIME AND AGAIN PHRASES SPILL OUT IN FRONT OF ME URGENT AND DEMANDING ESCAPING WITH GLEE I MAKE NO DECISION WHERE EACH LINE GOES TEXT SEEMS TO MOCK ME AS IT TWISTS AND FLOWS IS IT A SICKNESS OR TRULY A GIFT I CAN ONLY WONDER AS EACH VERSE I SIFT
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