My blank eyes stare
In bold frustration
At the white sheet
Sitting, calmly mocking me
On the plain brown table
The pen quivers in hand
My mussels shake with shame
But try as I might
My ideas are insanely sane
No bursting fits of passion
Or inspiring metaphors
Only a page covered in splatters
From my ink of internal wars
A block of metal in my mind
A chain of iron on my hand
Glossy mirrors on my eyes
Spiking needles in my thighs
Calling for me to get up
To leave this terrible attempt
But when a poets mind is blank
Like mine
About blankness will they find a rhyme
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 1:29 AM UTC
My blank eyes stare
In bold frustration
At the white sheet
Sitting, calmly mocking me
On the plain brown table
The pen quivers in hand
My mussels shake with shame
But try as I might
My ideas are insanely sane
No bursting fits of passion
Or inspiring metaphors
Only a page covered in splatters
From my ink of internal wars
A block of metal in my mind
A chain of iron on my hand
Glossy mirrors on my eyes
Spiking needles in my thighs
Calling for me to get up
To leave this terrible attempt
But when a poets mind is blank
Like mine
About blankness will they find a rhyme
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