Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Writing in the Dark

The sun shines everyday
 the clock ticks one second ahead to the future
There are millions of reasons to smile
  to love
  to be happy

But somehow there is a lens on the view I see
I’m trying to write my story
 but it feels like I am writing in the dark

I feel the pen in my hand,
 the paper on the table.
I understand the words I write
  I feel the curve and flow of
  the letter L
  the wave of an i
  the infinity movement of an f
  and a wider wave of an e

But how do I go back to dot the i?
Are my letters straight on the page,
  spaced accordingly?
Or does the words I write scrunch together
 unable to expand and breathe
 a muddled mess of lines?

I wonder if the path of my  words slant up or down?
A story that looks like
I dropped a box of magnets poetry pieces
  onto the paper

I know that I can smile today, but I’m
 writing in the dark

I have never found the switch to enlighten my room
Or found the window shades
 to pull back the curtains
 to see the beauty of the world
And no one seems to know I’m in here
writing in the dark

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