Life has many pens
I am grateful for mine
I was gifted longevity
With ink that runs and runs
I was hustled into an empty pen
Like a spring lamb
This was my part in life, my grave
Grown over, hiding seed
Where I would eat my lines
According to the part I have to play
So let me show this to you
This hillside of pens
Do not be afraid
Go in
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Always seek what you need..
