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I look down at this blank white pageOh echoin' hollowness, it can encage

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I look down at this blank white page
Oh echoin' hollowness, it can encage

They trouble me, these straight lines
Remindin' me of those monitor signs

Back at hospital, on that dark screen
They pierce my soul, sharp and lean

Unstoppable, they brought last beep
And all I could do was cry and weep

How I entreated them to swiftly rise
But they flowed so linear, all precise

They snatched you forever from me
On a bad day when you ceased to be

Now clearin' my tears, I glance down
In rows of alphabets, I tardily drown

My pupils turn so diluted in surprise
As wisdom seeps in 'n' atlast I realise

That I've sucked life from your death
To pour in blank page, a lively breath

Author's Note

I've had this theory for years now. Whenever I see a blank page, it reminds me of the straight lines that appear on the monitor screen when someone dies. A blank page is dead. But then..when we write upon it, our words appear on it like the lines that rise and fall on the monitor screen to represent heartbeat. In short, a writer pours life in a page. I hope you understand this metaphor. It's kind of...weird. :3

And I hope you understand and like this poem as well. :')♥♡ I wrote it 15 hours ago but couldn't update it 'cause....I was..umm..sleepin'. :P Sorrie. ^-^♥♡

Much Love xX
Hazel *-*

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