maybe tomorrow she told herself

Her attempts at writing were unfruitful.
Stark white page sneered and called her mean names.
Loser, stupid, dummy, idiot….
She stared at the page.

Writing was not a big deal.
Lots of people did it.
The thin blue lines stuck out their tongues at her.
Maybe tomorrow she told herself.
Her muse gave her the finger.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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