Simple words,
spilt on paper,
but they're more,
addicting habit,
spreading ink,
like drops of feeling,
laughing as,
once unknown thrill,
becomes compulsory,
an insatiable need,
the inner poet,
once denied,
demands to be,
the only one,
who speaks,
the true.
Poetry Prompt - Write a poem using "Writers Anonymous" as your title. (Or, "Hi My Name Is")
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