My muse is stirring. But she's angry. She's angry at me for waking her, I think. Lazy skank. She doesn't like what I've given her. It's too... torn, she says. Others have said it so much better than can be done by my infantile mind. She's not a very positive muse, this one. She's annoyed that I'm so broken. How could I let myself get here
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She'll calm down soon enough.
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