The pen scribbles over paper
The words born to be burned
Scene is hidden in the vapour
I keep writing; unconcerned

They will say I’m bad with English
They will say my porn is girly
Need to work to be distinguished
Can’t stay sulky. Can’t stay surly

The pen scribbles over paper
Scratches out the whole lines
Mind turns it into a scraper
Stroking over pleasant lies

Words are written and forgotten
New glyphs run over the page
They replace the others—rotten
The corrections are my gage

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