Why is it that I only go outside
when I want something?
I stay inside all day
surrounded by machines,
but whenever I want to write
I wander outside
and stare at a blade of grass.
"O Mother Earth
with all your beauteous bounty
inspire me to great lyrical heights"
I am like an abusive boyfriend
who doesn't call for weeks
and then picks up the phone
at three AM
begging for sex
And I wonder why she doesn't pick up.
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