Robbed

From the heart to the attic, inspiration ascends, and this pen allows me to begin, identifying the thoughts within. Yet if I don’t seize that very moment, my hands may have shown it, thoughts may be lost forever, in my boundless sea of treasures… unindexed and unlabeled within the stalls of my mind’s stable… lost in the fabric of time. The very stroke of my pen, robbed of a thought within, shall never present itself, at the same time ever again. Thus, I’ve been robbed of a part me.

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