What should my first short story be.
Kid loses his ball...
Being a bad person before I’m good...
Venturing out onto a tall ship to sail…
These are adventures, yet none of them are calling to me. So..
I paste and type, I grab and hold on to every word ever so tightly
What if I’m bad
What if I’m good
These are the two are having conversations in my head
While I trickle words down on to the page
Each letter getting slowly backspaced
Yet I still keep going even though, I should be negative
I’m done for now,
getting up to get some coffee.
See you in a few, says the excuses
The rhymes are over for now, they have gone to rest
Just the prose is left, and even he wants to go, but like an annoying house he stays
Not letting him have peace or space
I keep writing the little words hoping the weight of them grows,
Do I have a thumb for this, Can the greats hear me,
My call forth, into the dark, telling them I’m here.
Only time and my punchy little fingers floating down the river of this keyboard can tell
Here, I roar, if ever so silently. Here I am.
Here’s my bow.
Signed,
Isaac Ramiro