I was never able
to sing a song,
I would always
input words
that didn’t belong.
And while I thought
I might captivate,
It always ended in failure,
for my voice wasn’t great.
Realising I would never
be able to confess
I decided to try
another avenue to impress.
I picked up a pen
and let it lead me astray,
To rewrite me
memories of yesterday.
Back to a time
when I was young and naïve,
a web of lies
I could easily weave.
My personal history
looks a lot brighter
now that I am
my own scriptwriter.

Fantastic! 😁😁😁
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Thanks.
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You’re so welcome.
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Love this!
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Thanks.
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Beautiful! 🙂
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Thanks.
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Your welcome 🙂
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I love to read this poem !
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Thank you.
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