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She sits alone near the park Notebook in her lap Pen in hand Ignoring the jeers of passersby Her emotions pouring Out onto the paper Much exactly like The tears falling from her cheeks They make marks on the paper Making it harder and harder to read But she can decipher it And only she She writes of sorrow, Death, war, sadness, love, terror And things of that nature Things that her life is filled with She works hard Writing, and writing Until finally, Her name is known
It's good. I think you should change "much exactly like". Actually, I don't think you need that line at all.
Carl's right. I don't think you need the line "Much exactly like" Other than that, I thought it was pretty cool