Today I type.

The act of
deceitful stories
has forced my
lead pencil down.

Omitted tales
during key scenes;
some of day and
others of night

returned dripping
words at dusk
to etch adverbs
into a screen.

It caused long
monologs that
stirred doubts, 
then deletes.

Things have
continued as
before but it
isn’t the same.


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