Just Me to Create

It’s me I berate,
Because I can’t create.

I must put it away.
It will come I say.

Trying to get the spark,
Might as well catch a lark.

It’s like the peach,
Just out of reach.

Maybe real soon,
There will be a boon.

And in time,
I will find the perfect rhyme.

But for now,
I wonder how.


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