stuck

The pristine white sheet burns into my eyes,

blank, like the thoughts in my head,

It’s daunting, mocking, empty.

I want to be able to do something, anything,

I don’t move.

The sharpened pencil gripped in my hand,

the tip hovers just above the page.

The blinking cursor on the screen,

my hands hover just above the keyboard.

The racing thoughts in my head,

my mind hovers just above the answer.

I don’t move.

lonelynature

NH

15 years old

More by lonelynature

  • history

    My history is written,

    Enclosed in the minds on those who knew me,

    Twisted and fractured.

    Changed by time and perspective,

    Stored in the records of the country,

  • in my head

    Silence, loud, deafening silence. I can’t look her in the eyes, but I can’t rip mine away, so I stare. It’s not awkward or anything, I mean she’s staring too.