As always he would always write
Always typing black on white
Always wondering if for once this one
Would always be the best he’d done
As always he would write too much
Always ending up as double-dutch
Always busy with his studying
Would always work his inborn clutch
As always when the words went stale
Always looking at a grander scale
Always knowing that was not for now
Would always ponder when or how
As always someway is a finite ride
Always hoping not to be denied
Always come what may the fogginess
Would always let the lines digress
As always that is how it is
Always working on the writer’s quiz
Always testing out the many ways
Would always to his end of days
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