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The bad days-#artists-#poetry

You see, the words come, come, come. 

Tomorrow they’ll run, run, run. 

And the next day I’ll forget, think about the things I thought about and how they don’t mean shit. 

Still I note them down, aggressively and desperately while anger spurs and splashes the ink everywhere. I bold here, overwrite there, scratches everywhere and words showing temper. 

Still the next day of those next days I get back and look and reflect on what I was trying to say. 

An artist is most beautiful on his worst day. 

JLA ©

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