Love’s been the talk of the town
Peace, I leave to those in war
Happiness, to the one whose life’s been great
Success for him who’s been victorious and brave.

Hate’s been love’s unloved
Turmoil, I beg not to jot
Sorrow, to someone’s lone and frail
Defeat for him whose life’s been just there.

Nothing seems to be my pen,
Something’s that which I wish to pen,

Pausing salvaged me from my pain…
To write something from nothing -
    that which I ought to do in writing.

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