So many words scattered in my head,
But when I write them down
They tend to not make sense
 
But isn’t that art? To be able to interpret?
Something so strange and personal–
Even though they’re just words
 
I seem to repeat, repeat, repeat
Everything, idea, and thought that I read
Recycled minds enclosed by rights
But inspiration will set my free
So hopefully I will inspire me

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Delilah
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