finish me.

the story begged.
the notebook, barren...
screaming...
of pages yet to be filled.

of ink yet to be spilled.

finish me.
and feed me to the little children.
their greedy eyes and growing minds.

finish me.
the canvas screamed to be clothed.
feeling desperately exposed.

finish me.
finish me.
finish me.

cries drowned out by the everyday obligations of a writer's life.