an actual poem for once
this actual poem,
that I am write.
finally, an actual poem,
during the day, during the night.
I write this poem,
start to end.
a proper poem,
my mind starts the bend.
as my quill runs out of ink,
I'm so tired, starting to sleep.
my eyes start to drag, I constantly blink.
the final full stop and then I sleep.
(did I really rhyme sleep with sleep, I'm a genius poet.)
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