I crave for even the faintest touch of inspiration
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Its rivers have seemingly dried up
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The past weeks have silently gone by like nameless citizens in a waiting line
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Scattered grey clouds have altered my strategic game plan
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I must dig deep
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An amalgam of taunting voices wittingly took the limelight away
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from the notes that should be treasured
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I have been comfortably wrapped in discouragement for far too long
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Words and actions have somehow lost some of their sweetness
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I need to regain my thirst for optimism
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Deaf will be these ears to your serenades
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Blind will be these eyes to your charades
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Cold wil be the front that welcomes you
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Scattered grey clouds have weakened my strategic game plan
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I must dig deeper
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Nameless
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Despised Icon |