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I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’ll sit on a cloud with no silver lining
And become the male equivalent of a spinster
With words as my spouse and books as my offspring

At least then it is I who will control the outcome
For the lives of my heroes and heroines
And since I’ll not be afforded a happy ending
The least I can do is to give one to them

The Lord said ‘no’ to my happily ever after
Perhaps to inspire my imagination
A hollowed out heart is an ideal home after all
For my mind’s perpetual inspiration

I’m looking forward to being a tragic author
I’m such a devoted, hopeless romantic
Devoted in the sense I should have been committed
And hopeless as I took our love for granted

I dare you to keep the anguish and torment coming
As it will serve to inspire my greatest work
Assuming my heart pumps love more efficiently than pain
And my mind can refrain from going berserk

Now I sit in frustration with my parchment paper
The ink of my life story refusing to dry
Bleeding through to pages that are yet to be written
While this tragic author’s words are cast aside
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Submitted on
April 2, 2013
File Size
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