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Monday night, up late,
And I cannot quite find
the poem in me.
It was just there. ;
somewhere around some corner,
in my mind,
haunting me.
I must call forth this apparition,
It is an exorcism I seek.
Will you stay?
Will you believe in me,
and my ghosts?
I don't -
not literally - but
the more I search,
the less I'm free,
the ghost is me.
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