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ROUGH DRAFT

Verse 1: I was once a whisper, light on your tongue, A gentle hum, a soft song to be sung. But like the fray of ink, fading with time, I fell from grace as you lost your mind. Your fingers once tender, tracing my lines, Now calloused and tired, no longer entwined. A thought you had, now lost in the folds, A burden too heavy, a story too old. Chorus: I'm just a draft, discarded and torn, A melody you no longer mourn. Fading away, a word left behind, A broken thought that slipped through your mind. I was a song you forgot how to sing— Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing. Verse 2: In the margins, I bled a silent plea, But your eyes had grown distant, no longer to see. Just words, unworthy of love, Tangled in dreams you no longer thought of. The crumple of paper, a lover’s last sigh, A fleeting thought you were ready to deny. You held me once, but I was a chore, Each line you rewrote felt more like a bore. Chorus: I'm just a draft, discarded and torn, A melody you no longer mourn. Fading away, a word left behind, A broken thought that slipped through your mind. I was a song you forgot how to sing— Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing. Bridge (Despair): But the ache—oh, the ache still remains, In the hollow of silence, in the sting of the pain. You never saw me, not once, not ever, A ghost of your thoughts, just fading forever. I scream in the quiet, but you’ve turned away, I’m just a wreck, a shadow of yesterday. Chorus (reprise): I'm just a draft, discarded and torn, A melody you no longer mourn. Fading away, a word left behind, A broken thought that slipped through your mind. I was a song you forgot how to sing— Now I'm nothing, just a fading thing. Outro (whispered): Just a line unfinished, a thought lost in time— A poem that never reached its rhyme. A silent wreck… my slow, silent death. Fading away... until there’s nothing left.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 5/31/2025 9:13:00 AM
Hi Lin, thank you for enjoying this piece. So many of us that write have those notebooks you talk about.. full of half written treasures. But sometimes our muse is like the wind, it comes and goes and we don't exactly know why.
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Date: 5/17/2025 7:10:00 AM
How many of these have I left half-written in a notebook or on last month's file? Too many, but I don't want to think of them as abandoned... rough draft sounds better and only needs a little editing to smooth their jagged edges. A wonderfully emotional write about an inanimate theme, but your thoughts are always worthy of pondering. ;-)
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