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I’m sitting in my writing chair
And staring into space.
The page is empty – there is nothing
Even to erase.
I’m tapped out of ideas right now
And way too pooped to pop.
At least I’ll get a few lines down
Before my eyelids drop.
It would be wrong for me and you
To skip this poem tonight,
So I will post it just because
Two wrongs require a write.
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