Stuck between a forever block
and a fixed time slot
To what purpose April,
You have been bought?
It’s cruel, it’s brutal
This time of the year
When poets howl.
With the stir of mystical memories,
mournful and sombre emotions
of their owners,
the blood That flows
through the tip of quill
I dare you to halt.
-A wallflower
thousandsvisions 
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