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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #997240
This poem is still in the writing process & I would love all the feedback I can get.
I pick up a pen
And the ink runs dry, why has
it been so long that the words flutter
out like dried leaves.
Can’t I even try to remember?

No. Maybe I can’t.
Even my smudged- ink hands are fading- to
that “oblivion”, what a nonsense word,
such a depressing word.
Sick minded, have I become a true
pessimist? Maybe this is the climax of
writer’s block, stuck in this jig-sawed hole.
© Copyright 2005 Chelsea Wozniak (twistedspoon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/997240-Untitled-momentarily