Clicking away with pleasure,
Scrolling through
things I have come to treasure,
Unaware of time far spent on the
screen one more click
I said (an hour later )
but we all know many
more followed after
Bored and now I seek
For a new entertainer
Even though, right about
Now, it feels like I have
Been placed in a Container
It houses all of the things I
procastinated to work on
Maybe I could draw, except my
fingers have clicked and
scrolled for so long,
She has lost the feelings
and control of them
I could have sworn they
were foreign
Writing could be a good
Idea but, what about?
I've lied to myself for so
long all in the name of
"Writer's block "
So I look for a way to
derive inspiration,
even if it drops lower
Finally I pace for a long time
A step then another
Away from my phone
For just a little bit
Away from the buzzing
And lighting up
Of the screen,
Causing my fingers
To tingle and eyes in
Anticipation of
What it could be
A world away from
Boxed items
Feels so peaceful
And unfamiliar
Alot of headspace
I must confess
But then again,
There was a time ,
When all the living
Boxes clothed in
Expensive looking
Outfits didn't exist
So how come suddenly
We feel we can't cope
Without them!
How did we cope before?
I feel like I have missed
So much and suddenly,
Don't know how
To reate without THEM
Currently, I have to
Find a way to get
Back my groove
To Dance again ,
feel again, breathe again,
laugh again( this time actually
laugh out loud)
talk again (Not behind screens this time),
Write again,
step out to the welcoming
slap of fresh air
on my face
Anything else but
stare at the screen for hours
All those hours and
Now my eyes feel wonky
At this point, I'm not sure
Whether it's the side
Effect of so much screens
Or just rest is needed.
-Blackbird
YOU ARE READING
Half Past 00:00
Poetry⏰It's 00:00 the night is fast asleep and anyone who dares speak is silenced but my mind refuses to be silenced, Dear little Blackbird speak less, ink more she tells me. Endless lines of my feelings flood my pages uninterrupted, it feels good...
