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Posted by MFish

Sometimes when I'm writing,
I would swear, my mind
Has thoughts of it's own.

With pen in hand, I write
The words that pop into
This brain of mine.
Writing fast, scribbling here,
Unable to read the words
As they fly by, as I attempt to
Write. Oh my goodness
There is no period in sight
To end all this rambling
Prose. There. Finally one
Did appear, but what happened
To the commas?
Did they disappear?
I wish I knew, for it would
Make it clear, that my
Writing sense is not here.

A waft of smoke
from the small fire,
with intense heat,
stoking a new desire,
to live once more,
under the bright star
and to be the man
you know you are.

Sitting around a campfire at night
the front of you is warm.
Your back is cold as ice.
Telling stories of days gone by;
embellishing as needed
to maintain the lie.

There is no comfort
in sitting here,
unless of course
the cold will disappear.

The song you sang,
I've heard before.
About a lost love,
not here anymore.
I know not of love.
I'll say it once more,
for my personal feelings
lay on the floor.
No feeling of despair .
No feeling of loss.
No feeling to care
about another person.
It's not for me
or the pain in my heart.
It is still there with thee
as my soul tears apart.

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