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Writer's block.

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MikkiMarie

Published: Jul 17, 2013

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Literature Text

A thirteen-year-old poet,
Whispers frolicking among her tongue
As a ballet dancer across a stage.

What to write, oh, what to write…

Her fingers wrapped around a pencil,
Gently tickling the page
With a language between herself
And her imagination.

Thoughts race through her mind,
One,
Two,
Three,
Quick!
Three,
Two,
One,
Gone.

Frozen hands on a silver clock
Turning moments into
D r e a d f u l h o u r s .

What to write, oh, what to write…

Crickets stop their chirping,
Birds start to sing.
Five thirty in the morning,
And not a single word on paper.

What to write, oh, what to write…

She begins to scribble across the page,
Doodles and anything that crosses her mind.
Words begin flooding her thoughts,
As she wrinkles the paper and grabs a clean sheet.

“A thirteen year old poet,
Whispers frolicking among her tongue
As a ballet dancer across a stage…"

And just as she nears the end
Of these words,
These messy,
Crazy,
Demented words...

Thoughts race through her mind.
One,
Two,
Three,

Quick!

Three,
Two,
One…

Gone.

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Yes, it was five thirty, in the morning, when I wrote this.
Yes it is about me ._.
Yes it failed.
Yes I am posting it anyway.
Yes, I am prepared for all the hate comments.
But before you say anything, I'M SORRY