Empty,
I sit at my desk
Staring at the
Blank page
I long to be like the others
Producing,
Expressing.
My opinions beg to be shared
But the abyss grows
As I keep time with my pencil
One tap at a time
Tears leak from my eyes
as its overwhelming hollowness
Consumes me
I call
But they wont come
I reach
But they’re too far
So I’m left alone
Stretching,
Towards my untouchable
Void
Friday, June 10, 2005
My Untouchable Void
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2 comments:
I love the conversation this poem sparked about how great writing is, and the more you do it, the better you get -- there's just no getting around it.
I love this poem- You have a great talent- don't ever stop writing- Nameste'
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