I find myself writing the same lines
Over
And over
And over again,
Til the ink blurs in frustration -
Why can't I tell my story?
It cries out from within me,
Bound, unable to break free -
How is it so easy for some?
I give my life
To each and every word,
Only to watch them wither and die
As they reach the page,
And the words inside me
Begin to die as well,
Fading away
To be forgotten
And abandoned -
I'm a graveyard
Of untold lines
And ungranted wishes
YOU ARE READING
T e l e s c o p i c | COMPLETED
PoetryWhat is it I see Through these wavering glass spheres? Foreign tongues written far off in the heavens, Feelings incarnate, Scrawled across the bottomless sky For the seraphs and me alone to read. ~~~~~~~~~~ HIGHEST RANK: #257 (8/28/16) Vote if you e...
