Stolen from here.
I have a pencil that wishes to say more.
And an eraser. To stop me from saying too much.
Because I myself am sure.
That I won't truly say what I feel.
I've learned to pretend to feel.
So give me time, and let me come to it.
I'll ask you to walk with me.
And let's walk together.
The trip won't feel as lonely then.
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