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Young Fiction Writer

Save face and leave, before she gets mean

You know how to act, you scripted the scene

This film's more a short, a monologue of sorts

Whatever is invalidate the mind reading smileNow ask yourself quietly

You're a bright breathing funeral

Was it worth all the agony

Your last fairy tale?Scribble out the trite words, on paper always smarter

Looking for the video locked in your left brain

A string of stealth encounters, making sex under the table

Perfect simple positions, like the truth you've learned to bendNow ask your friends quietly

You get worked over nightly

By the brutal reality

Of your last fairy tale

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