Inked
A Project, gathering dust
Stored away for no eyes to read;
“Not yet- It’s not finished”
Writer’s block makes the way difficult
-going up stream without a pencil-
Worried about editing,
Worried about missing pieces.
How can you connect the beginning and the end?
Worried if it’s too cheesy,
Worried if it’s to fake,
Worried that it’s not far-fetched enough to be fantasy.
But you love these characters
Each holding a piece of;
Who you are,
Who you were,
Who you want to be.
You can hear them chattering
-in the back of your mind-
Practically unnoticed
As other projects must take Precedence.
Soon, but never soon enough you’re back:
Click, click, clacking
Tick, tack, typing
Desperate to know;
Where shall they go?
Who will fall in love?
Who will fall out?
It’s as much a mystery to you
As you hope it will be to Them.
Eventually it’s typed
But that’s never
THE END
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