Do you ever have a story?
Burning deep inside
screaming "help I must get out,
I must speak my mind!"
It's not that I don't welcome them
truly, though, I do,
a new come story is a happy thought
second only to you
But they always seem,
though they do not mean,
to come at the worst times
there's much to do and writing now
just isn't on my mind
Why can't I just spend all my life
writing till I'm gone
think of a more joyous thing
You can't, so just move on
I'll write and dream and window paint
I'll dance and sing and shout
I'll love and live and be myself
and ever do no wrong
for its hard to do a bad thing
when your mind is filled with good
so can't I write this story now?
Later I'll do the things I should.
Promise.
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