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These pages won’t fill themselves,

Dust is filling up the shelves.

Notebooks filled with past scribbles,

Filling them all felt so simple.

Writing’s not the problem.

Real problem is how often.

Need to vacate for a day.

Breathe fresh air far away.

Seclude myself into a sea of trees.

Get in touch with what touches my feet.

Remember to take it all in.

Blind to facts you’re not seeing.

Remember to believe in your dreams,

They’re the reason for being.


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