My Head is in My Hands

My head is in my hands

Because they're tired of writing

Expressing and finding

Opening doors that only lead

To more hallways; winding

My pen; a megaphone on mute



My head is in my hands

Because it is tired of thinking

Analysis, subtle interrogation

That leaves my thoughts

As a blinking cursor

On an empty screen



My head is in my hands

Because my eyes are tired of seeing

False images and hope

The spark is faint,

But a lightning bug

As summer approaches



My head is in my hands

Because they're tired of striking

Flint and stones, trying

To breathe life into a fire

That appears to be built

On brittle sticks submerged in what?

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