wandering feet tired, raw, blistering, and bleeding
and wondering how I made it home alive
march through the threshold and pick up a pen
sitting in cold and staring down distance
drawing blank cards from an empty case
building this block; at a loss for words
an empty page on a sterile black desk
my body wrapped in a blanket of exhaustion
blood running hot my mind grows weak
a thread wearing thin from the frays of the day
my patience is short a recluse walking the edge of a blade
nodding off at my desk rest is calling my name
Author notes
this is about writer's block after work bleh - BULL3T2B1N0RY
A contest entry
- Plethora Of Options by Play Pretend..
650 points, ended June 10, 2008, 27 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I'll Be Blunt. I don't like this poem at all.
I didn't really find it about writing and the flow threw me off alot. Sorry, i'm not saying it's a bad poem, i just don't like it. -
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Yeah I agree it was written about writer's block I came home from work and wanted to write and I couldn't think of anything to write about my brain was so tired I just wrote this and then went to bed
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aww wow! i like this alot. wonderful write
good luck in the contest
i really love all the descriptions, it feels very raw
take care
stephanei =)
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