I've written a number of poems and songs about love and hate, of indifference,
and even about life's ordinary moments that surprisingly turned out to be uniquely special to me.
This time, though, when the writer's block attacks
and the singer's laryngitis worsens,
would you please tell me to just rest and be still.
Reassure me that this is just a phase and everything else will be better soon.
But if things forever stay like this,
will you please write the words and sing the songs for me?
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