Writer’s Rage

Thousands of pages
on the floor,
Half torn;
Some screwed, all thrown
away in scorn.
Thousands of pages
on the floor,
Scattered like felt-tip pen foetuses,
born from my brain,
I want them no-more.
Thousands of pages
on the floor,
I wonder if you
should be the lucky one?

17/07/2007 ©

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