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Worth the paper that

Phrases pleasing

Take shape

Come uninvited

And demand commentary

There is an element

Of not appearing dull,

Nor stupid, nor uniform


Bird shit

Forming a feline outline

Signifies something

In an age where words

Are everywhere and understood

Want to shout that

There’s still mystery and meaning


They’re not so special

Once nailed down

Other voices echo through,

No escaping influence

Too late for unique experience

The incentive to admit defeat?

Papers scrapped

Only to start again scrawling.

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