I am a lot of things.
But not everything I'd like to be.
And in this I find myself
To be worthless. Boring.

I am not the crashing waves
I'm not the burning fire
Or the rumbling, sturdy ground.
Or the breeze or wind.

Why, oh why, can I not be
Everything that seems so exciting.
Why am I stuck,
In this flesh and blood?
Far away from my dream.

It’s traumatic not knowing what to type
It’s that edgy feeling till your thoughts ripe

Its difficult to sleep in peace
I place a variety of words on a leash

I sit with a cup of coffee
With my laptop glaring at me

My mind is weakened
My soul is vacant

My cursor is blinking impatiently
And I am deleting each line repeatedly

My hearts not burning with sorrow
My heart is happy but hollow

I don’t feel anything extreme
I don’t feel generous or mean

My mind is at peace
My thoughts are at ease

And until an artist can’t feel
Their thoughts are concealed

So I need to dig in deep
And let this moderate feeling seep.

-Zainab Attari