Blinking cursor, erasing, moving back,
undo, redo, sentences and word files.
Scrambling for fresh paper now, fresh ink to start,
But all ends in scratch, scratch, scratch.
What do I write about, what do I choose,
and curse Hemmingway for saying it’s easier with booze!
A pebble I dropped in the pools of my mind,
shuffling, playing and putting memories on rewind.
Changed cities, distanced people and the twenties’ confusion,
a million fires from burning dreams laced with illusion,
do I write about love, do I write of inspiration,
do I write about who hurts me or do I jot down my frustrations?
Do I write happy stuff or do I make my words weep?
Do I write something epic or write something cheap!?
I don’t know what to write, I’m as clueless as a sheep.
So to hell with this, I’ll just go off to sleep.