They’re other people words
Or the stories they write
Yet louder than any siren
They intrude on my life

I hear their thoughts
And what I see is you
I wish they were mine
I wish they were new

What I can pen
Never seems to compare
Always lacking that feeling
Missing that dare

So I listen and imagine
And from there I yet try
To pen the words that I hear
When stolen by my butterfly

 

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