Everything is dripping
She thinks
Even crafts half created
hang from driftwood
Tied to dirty windows
Sunlight dangling
In wait,
No modesty
In that which she despises
Inspired by what is not hers
Loses luster
Dented with lament
This moment with this
Shitty piece
Hyperfixated on
What it is not
Thoughts of
What else is not
Stick themselves here too
Art,
Like a fart
She cannot
Will it to pass
But still, there is discomfort
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