My occupation is a poet..

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In the end I can't put down the pen;
Not when the ink is my blood

My characters;
Based on reality...

Must live through, the way I feel;
My strange fantasies, my apologies, and so on so fourth

The second I fall;
After I drained my own body, just for this....

I know you'll take this over, and then what? My characters, would you make them more real? Or would you remake them just like I had?

Hmm, don't you get it.... I can't stop the poems no matter what; I've gave my life to this... for the time being;
My occupation is a poet..

Either till your death or my own
Either way the poems must continue...
What a sad declaration!

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