Unwritten
My notebook is next to me as always.
Bent and covered in drool.
I did speak to myself but it was nothing but rambling and scrambling.
My notebook is here with lines on the pages but the lines are wavering.
I can’t write in the lines like they taught us in school.
The pen is somewhere on this bed.
Or maybe it scurried into a crevice.
I have nothing to write with.
I have nothing, but thoughts.
I have no pen.
So I have no choice but to shiver in bed.
Copyright © Angelica Tao | Year Posted 2023
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