Cliché

Each stroke of the pen,
Each indent of the pencil
made her shiver in disgust
made her get lost in her own will

She tries again and again
With these leather binds
even when they strengthen
and give her blind eyes

She picks up each letter
each word, each writing
just to hope to make it get better
just to hope to make it to leather bindings

She shivers and shudders
She forces her hand
as the paper withers
and the ink marks turn bland

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