An Old Desire Returns
Lost in a mysterious haze
Not a sound or visible sign
Maybe found in a wild daze.
The need to write runs free
Veins hunger wildly for verse
A need that many don't see.
Like a caged fury only waiting
Wanting to see the ink flow
So alive and without fading.
A writer finds the right pen
The hunger makes ink drip
Finally, he starts to write again.
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