I am merely an invert image;
inked within invisible pages.
This racing, rambling mind,
shelves semi-sadistic stages.
Penning proses and poetry,
inking ideologue and ideals.
Capturing creativity cells,
this raptured ruin reveals.
Sketching soulless satires,
frustrated famine feeds.
Etching eerie elegies’,
nameless are ones' needs.
Jotting jealous gibberish,
in a book of broken bliss.
Heavy hearted hypocrites,
in vigilant verse a miss.
Orating odes of omnibus,
Notating neighs of night.
Composing call of creation,
Whence will I wistfully write?
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