I am not

An old school plagiarist

Stealing all that I write

From this life

Obvious to those

Cursed with sight

Funny how I still

Know nothing despite


The writings on the wall

And the many scribbles

In the stalls

Bumping into other thieves

Busy at their theft

Rolling up their sleeves

All of us trying to take a bow

For something we were presented

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Poem – Crumbled Papers

Crumbled papers thrown with disgust

Bounce across the floor

Filled with shades of me

That I am trying to explore


Diving into gaping holes

Bringing up words

That only reflect cracks

Merely feathers compared

To the weights on my back

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