The Writer

Last night I contemplated,
why my thoughts were complicated.
Or were they simply overrated?
Could this mind be replicated?
I wrote them down before they faded.
Constant edits, each line I hated.
it felt different…my mind was raided!
My anguish…grossly understated.
Words missed out like they were shaded.
Meaningless and fabricated.
You’re yet to know how I am tainted.
Maybe one day, you’ll see me naked.

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