| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Writing >> ID #1602724 |
| |||||||||||||
|
I'm staring at a blank sheet of paper
wishing I could write you a story or maybe just a letter. I know what makes you laugh, and I know what makes you cry. But I can't write a word on this blank sheet of paper. And I just stare waiting for words that never come to my hand no matter how far I reach inside my mind. I don't know how to start, and I don't know how to end. I am stuck in the middle staring at a blank sheet of paper. It's four hours later, and I am still staring at this blank sheet of paper. I still see the same old scene with palm trees and the sea. I have no muse, and with this short fuse I'm thinking to end. But I just stare waiting for words that never come to my hand no matter how far I reach inside my mind. I don't know how to start, and I don't know how to end. I am stuck in the middle staring at a blank sheet of paper. It's one frustrated writer later, and I still have a blank sheet of paper.
© Copyright 2009 TLaurenCole (UN: chazaenuadu at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
TLaurenCole has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |