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I dragged my pen across paper like a dagger to a vampires heart,looking to draw blood n life but even my ink couldn’t run because it knew it was a waste, there was nothing on the giving end,so my hand sits still and limp like my spine has no will. But The stories not over,it’s just began,tables are turning,pavements are being chased,hearts melted to stone,yes stone but next time I’ll be braver. I’ll be my own saviour. till then I stare blankly at the sky,waiting for falling stars,I stare at the jar of pennies on my lap, then the pond before me.I’m a blind Gardner deaf to nature. A deaf guitarist blind to music. my arms have no limbs and my hand has no soul. I once more drag my pen across my paper trying to fill my grave but instead I dug it deeper,burying myself evermore. Till I’m just a hand reaching out,a zombie trying to break out,out of the prison where my ink runs dry and my paper stays blank.

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