Tonight, a half-assed storm.
The drunk man in the lobby
slurs I don’t need this.
Enough, rain, enough—
my glass is turned over.
I’ve run out of words
to describe
the night.
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OPTIONAL POETRY 
Short but meaningful describing the state we all find ourselves time to time.
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Often in November… 🙂
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You better not run out of words for anything.
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It all connects to the ending👌🏾👌🏾
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