Mrrf.
i hate when i try to speak and the words get caught in my throat.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
The Fate of the Mediocre Word Artist
Pages blank, leather unbound, quills stilled in the inkwells
Musty books stacked on rickety shelves
Are draped in cobwebs covered in dust themselves
He is nothing now but a skull on a desk
All of his work rots...
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