Like the mostly empty notebook,
my mind is nearly blank.
The pen won't focus on filling up the page.
Inspiration must be running low today.
Do you think the blue and purple clash?
It looks better then what would have matched.
My heart and brain suffer in a similar way
In the same book,
but on a different page.
In the dark,
eyes will adjust.
Of course then,
surroundings have the power to trick.
The ringing in ears will begin,
attempting to mess up.
The ink smears,
and starting over again.
It looks better then what would have matched.
My heart and brain suffer in a similar way
In the same book,
but on a different page.
Originality must have broken its links.
The tanks won't fill,
so I will pen with no ink.
Forcing down the words that once came automatically.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20 thats cool. yeahh.fill in the blank.