Anothe bizzare attempt at poetry that comes deep from the psyche. (Or something like that)
Someone asked me recently,
how often do I write.
I told a little fib
and said each and every night.
Now I want to confess,
to the truth behind it all.
I have not written anything,
nothing new at all.
The words you see before you,
do not actually exist.
They are a figment of your imagination,
bet you didn’t expect that twist.
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