On Writing

Skipping, slipping, tripping, I’m tipping over the edge

And I’m ripping out the pages that come pouring out my head

And fighting, biting, writing, I’m righting all my wrong

Mathmatically inciting myself to paper songs



About Keats

Oh I'm sassy and I'm sexy, So silly sweet-and-sour Delightfully disastrous And deliciously dour I'm flippantly foolish, Filled I am with fear Can't concentrate completely, and my conduct isn't clear But to bravely be my best I Bring bravado back, BEHOLD!

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