I WRITE A POEM



i closely study the blank page

full of nothing

yet contains a potential

to be great.

but how would i know

the immense promise behind

spaces

of unmarked lines

and a sketch

of an empty life?



verily,

i, in my interrupted sanity

will always long

for the bliss of emptiness

as i stared unblinking

at the words

i created – my poetry.














Author's Notes/Comments: 

Yup, depression and a life uncommon can drive your muse to activity. It always happens to me. I can write when am at my lowest ebb, that sometimes my melancholic episodes are most welcomed. Weird, eh? :P

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Shell Trees's picture

That was really nice you can imagine the white empty page then the empty life which can be filled love Shell Trees