I’m not really a writer..
Freestyle Poem – If you couldn’t tell by now..
However, I just took a stab at putting some pen to paper and just seeing what happens. I’m honestly asking, is the following any good?
I stare, yet again at this blank piece of paper. Nothing comes to mind or flows through the pen. Nothing flows from the pen because the mind is less than prepared.
Never one for jotting down fiction; I frown at my lack of composition.
Speak truth to power. But, how, where I don’t believe in either?
I start to drift to sleep; finally something to make the dreams go away. They never seem to haunt me, but are certainly present throughout the day.
I don’t remember my dreams. Are they that horrifying, or is that ignorance I’m seeing?
Plenty of people say the same thing –
I don’t remember my dreams, they say. I wonder how many know truly what they state
Drifting through time, I never know the day. They all blend together much unlike this unflinching pen.
Something’s going on in there. What it is, do I care? I’m not sure, but don’t bother asking me to stare. At anything. As explained, it gets everyone nowhere.
Forget all this negativity. It’s holding you back.
But when it’s all that makes sense, how can’t you crack? What’s the glue you use, to hold it all together? I want a tube … just to look at.
What’s the point here? I was never sure, but I thank you for reading. For your time, I’m grateful for these words you’re heeding. How does one close some lines of prose? How should I fucking know?
Yeah, now that I read this the next morning it almost sounds dumb. Maybe I can save it for some song lyrics later or something. Either way, it’s staying here for now because that’s how I felt at the time. Simple as that.