I rearranged my worries into an incoherent thought
There is no logic or common sense
Even if I proofread its sentences
The clutter of the words will attack me
They are hard to read
But easy to digest
How can something so poorly written,
Badly structured, and filled with made-up words
Cloud my better judgment,
Dictate my choices and slow me down?
As cliché as it sounds;
“Sticks and stones will break my bones,
But words will never hurt me.”
The writer of this rhyme
Probably, never had anxious voices
Creeping behind their back
Whispering, taunting and crying
I would love to meet this writer
Because I would love to know
How I can win this battle of words
Before they write a novel
I am too afraid to know the plot they have planned
God knows it will not have a second draft

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