Erase, erase,
Word *****
click, clack,
backspace.
Nothing I write sway’s my mind,
I only grow frustrated,
And delete the previous line.
I don’t know why.
Even stalled in isolation,
with no distractions,
I lose so much time,
Yarn is easier to de tangle,
Rather then emerging thoughts,
already mangled,
And strangled.
Even now I question,
The idea before last,
Did I give up too fast?
I often dream of wielding a sharp tongue,
The kind of tongue that answers to no one.
Erase, erase,
Word *****
And the coup de grace,
A swift tap,
click, clack,
backspace.
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 7:44 PM UTC
Erase, erase,
Word *****
click, clack,
backspace.
Nothing I write sway’s my mind,
I only grow frustrated,
And delete the previous line.
I don’t know why.
Even stalled in isolation,
with no distractions,
I lose so much time,
Yarn is easier to de tangle,
Rather then emerging thoughts,
already mangled,
And strangled.
Even now I question,
The idea before last,
Did I give up too fast?
I often dream of wielding a sharp tongue,
The kind of tongue that answers to no one.
Erase, erase,
Word *****
And the coup de grace,
A swift tap,
click, clack,
backspace.