By Damien Knight
Wild flower of the forest
I soon cut off my hand
Than to stop writing my heart
Only in my verse can I speak
How deep the well of my emotion
I shan’t call these things love
For I have built walls from pain
She is brave, quiet, certian
I am anxious, shakey, and passionate
She is active, intelligent, beautiful
I am average, dull and boring
Her voice is a song I cant sing
Her heart one I wouldn’t wish to break
I soon cut off my hands than forget
How much I love that dream
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The Shade of Writing 