Class is cancelled, but
I wish I could have slept in.
C'est la freakin' vie.
Words to be written
Are trying to find a way
From brain to dead hands.
Two different things
Clamor for my attention;
I try to be fair.
The past, imperfect,
And the future, limitless.
Two books, one story.
Ideas are dead,
And outlines are found wanting;
Hiccups in my brain.
Regardless, I write.
With nothing to say, I speak.
Swords clash; arrows fly.

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