Once I let go my pen , not so long after setting free all my thoughts and senses
I step into a vivid void , can't reckon when was it last I expressed whatever it is that I express
The ink draws my blood as the papers mean no more
Why do I feel so empty , as if only vacant vessels remain of me
With every word I write , a thought perishes.

In my lair I seek inspiration
Lust and desire are enough to make a fool out of me
Within every word I read , I strive deep behind it's meaning , is it a talent? A gift ? Or am I just being foolish.
I'm losing my mind , I can't seem to write such wonderful pieces
Have I lost the only win I had ?

With High hopes I rise
How would I lay low , when I've got fellers to please
The game is still long overdue!
and hell yeah Im a winner .

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