Scraps of paper plucked from the pocket of my robe

Things I meant to write, remnants of dreams,

notes in my wallet, first lines that actually

made it followed by multiple cross-outs,

new starts on new pages, the opening

now gone as well, all of it collapsing

in thudding rhyme echoing

something I wrote a year ago.

Scratch, delete, rip,

crumple, toss, light

the damn basket on fire!

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