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From left to right and back again they swing: The golden disks, the pendulums depended. Indifferent to those who onward tread, They click in perfect time, in time unending.
I wake up in the morning with my breath caught in my lungs I try to find words but they're caught beneath my tongue. My mind is fleeting from left to right  and the sun in the room is all too bright.
my life is worth a B- because schools want essays, not poetry.   i have never made my beliefs written, and in doing so, i have molested their immortality. i feel i must apologize for that.  
You Only Write Once, so you better write right.  Write your thoughts, right your thoughts.  Write your purpose, make your purpose right.  Graduate school deadlines are around the corner, just to the right. 
I am a poet.  Not an essayist.
I can’t tell him “No, I don’t understand” Because he’s sighing at me Looking over glasses at me As I break down in his office I can’t tell him “Please, explain it to me”
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