Backspace, hold, type.
Backspace, hold, stare.
The page glows white like
a winter landscape,
cold and bare-
it offers no ideas,
and no sympathy. I close
the program and my eyes,
lean back, and sigh. My mind
stays empty this time.
I'm not happy with what I've been writing, and that frustration is just making things harder.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
1 comment:
ah it's like you've read my mind/are the same person. this has been my life lately. sigh.
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