Frenetic hands dance over the keys.
A cacophonous collision creates a symphony of discord
in the overactive mind of the beckoned.
Neither the midnight hands of a clock
nor the haze of a silent summer night
could calm the fiend that murmurs to me.
Acquiescence to the gnawing persistence
that vibrates in my veins.
A momentary dissatisfaction.
The hesitation behind every line.
Beautiful!
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