Blankets by the dark
As if mind tangled by shadow
The unusual day for an unusual poet
Stuck in hibernating her inspirations hatching
Painting through the empty space
Word floats, puzzles, scrambles
This time crepuscle made her day
But not as easy as it looks
Lack of intensity
Her mind turned in dull
She longs for the warm of verses
But the stupidity may seize all her freedom to write
Becoming a dull poet is not an option
But sometimes a blurry mind may lead some stories
Even for the dull itself
Even for the stupidity of the poet herself
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