I have run out of things to say
I am tired of my repetitious ways
Without repeating words and depleting verbs
There is nothing new you haven’t heard
I have felt this all before
There is nothing more
But my pen is eager for ink to be spilled
Until the page is filled
Cupping the water in pooling hands
Reflections, reflecting my foolish plans
Bearing the load no schoolboy can
An echoing past through canyon lands
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