14
Running out of things to say.
Wrote 13 poems today.
I know that's quite a few,
most of them stink of poo.
Not very good or very grand,
just another grain of sand.
I'll never know why I write,
just seems to be part of life.
Meanwhile, I'll take a bow,
'cause number 14's done for now.
day 15
November 15, 2016
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