My Page


I think I lost my way.
My pen can’t seem to find my page.
I’m writing upon the air,
My creativity seemingly from nowhere.
And even when it’s here,
With me,
It’s elsewhere,
Far from free.
I don’t know how I could have lost my mind.
My spirit is here,
Alive, but trampled.
I don’t know what attacked,
Nor how or where,
But the nothingness is ample,
I’ll give you this sample.
My mind has since betrayed me.
I don’t think my page is done,
But maybe it needs some clearing.
Or maybe it requires some unbeknownst demand.
Hands in cuffs,  it’s time for a reprimand.


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