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Noisy Room
A noisy room,
conversation galore.
Gossip is flowing,
paper air planes sore.
Writing is hard,
when pressured with noise.
The voice of the teacher,
the girls and the boys.
But today is different,
I feel free to write.
The noise is inspiring,
it turns on my light.
As everyone’s talking,
I begin to think…
What would I do
if I ran out of ink?
The paper’s my friend,
the ink is my voice.
The pen in my hands
is my weapon of choice.
No I’m not a nerd.
And no I’m not a fighter.
I thought I was a talker,
but I seem to be a writer.
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I started to write in English class, while a supply teacher was strggling to teach us....... I wish I could tell you.