Blank Page - Poem by Bunny Monster716
I stared at a blank page today I tried to write what was on my mind but other thoughts blew it away
I followed the wind to write a book thinking they’d figure out what the author was trying to convey but the cover was all they saw it was enough for them to say they’d read it some other day
A blank page is like a blank canvas only it’s a canvas in my head but somehow it’s harder looking at a white page instead
My thoughts have words and my touch has feelings I’m trying to make the ink form but now I’m staring at the ceiling
I’m painting a picture with my emotions only I can’t seem to make the right color I try and I try but my emotions are unlike any other
I’m singing a song I know all the words only now I can’t remember how it ends. Now I’m back to a blank page the progress resets again.
I’m anything but blank I’m full of color, opinions, and so many important things... so why is it that I’ve such a hard time drawing myself wings?
I sketched out this picture I want to make it 3D, I want to make it come alive so people will be able to see what it feels to have emotions, and to think like me
I made a complex figure and design I tried hard to imagine keeping inside the lines. I thought that maybe this is what kept them confined what made them blind, and what made me feel so paralyzed on the outside.
I described to another what made things so difficult to portray hoping that they’d start to believe, I stared at the other as they stared blankly back but blank is far from what I wanted, no, need it to be
I composed a song that didn’t take long but I couldn’t finish it just yet. Someone told me that the words were wrong but I had thought that they were perfect. When I asked for suggestions or anything that could help not one response I could get.
I thought hard and it bothered my soul how I wanted to complete what was left undone. I tried hard but I just felt like I should run, the farther I get the closer I become
I sit here looking at all these attempts to help others to understand why it is the way I am. Because I’m tired of looking into others eyes only to see that I’m back at that blank page again.
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