I Hate Writing

Well,

My eyes are tired

Sleepless mind

Nothing lively in my life

But I’m scared to die

I created days and nights

Through words that I type

They’re not lies

Just a disguise

So I can feel safe and fine

Shielded by my fictional lights

But…

When the river of thoughts is dried

What would happen to this disguise?

And no, I don’t hate writing, guys

Of course I don’t

I don’t, do I?

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