What did you want
from broken pen?
The words that talk
yet have no end?
The same old words,
the same old thing.
no new beat or song
that we sing.
Yet we change. (do we change?)
I scratch at paper,
noise hitting nerves.
I ponder and think
for grace given words.
No, nothing so new
just heartaches of old.
It is always the same
or so I've been told.
So you search (have you found?)
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