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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1262237
Nothingness.
I sit in my room,
This cold winter night,
Pencil to paper,
Attempting to write.

Nothing comes out,
The page is left blank,
The night seeps in,
Cold, dark and dank.

I speak to the darkness,
Welcoming it's shadow,
Light comes in the morning,
I need something now, though.

Something has to come,
I haven't slept in days,
As my mind wanders,
In its torturous ways.

This blank page,
It torments me so,
But what to put on it,
I do not know.

So once again,
I sit here in darkness,
Hoping that maybe
It will end this madness.

But still I sit here,
While my mind wanders,
And what to write,
It silently ponders.

Another day wasted,
The light seeps in,
This long-fought battle,
I can never win.

I won't give up now,
So day after day,
I beg sleep to come,
Though it never may.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1262237-A-Tormented-Mind