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When I Was a Rough Draft
when I was a rough draft I lived a better life,
I lived hand written, my pages all crumpled,
I lived with various SpLink mistakes, revisions to be made,
I lived with red pen correcting my work, a teachers stern face looking over my shoulder,
I lived in a beat up composition book with many other poems,
But then my original was thrown away and now all I am is computer space.
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