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Assigned Reading

The margins are filled

With the ink I've spilled

Fragmentary reflections on love,

A haunting sketch of a dying dove

Too personal to be found as interesting

As some superficial thing

Look beside the print to find

The workings of the average mind

Unspoken, what we all know to be true,

Laid out right in front of you

Guesswork not required,

Simply not how I am wired

Isn't that what should be desired,

Lacking the labor that makes us tired

No complex meaning here lies,

Needing to be cut down to size.

Simply the mind's wanderings

And bountiful ponderings

Extracted and set to rhyme

As though anyone would take the time

To reflect on written words

Before they sour like curds