(oops, found this poem I forgot to post.. a little out of order now! :P)
If I scratch this lead on paper
Will I start to find my voice
-my mind
again?
I can’t write with pen, because I’m afraid of mistakes
But maybe the ability to erase takes away from the truth I’d like to say.
Each faded mark an insecurity.
And now I’ve become friends with my keyboard
To avoid seeing traces of past thoughts
More and more I click, drag…
and get caught right-clicking a thesaurus to ensure I’ve chosen
the proper word.
Now.
this is great and helpful and yes,
all hail this advanced technology many have had to live without.
It really isn’t as bad as I make it seem.
What I’ve had to realize (to my unwilling surprise)
Is that I go about doubting pens, blaming screens,
when I’m really just hiding from time because I don’t like what that second hand means…
I’m sleepwalking through a maze with multiple ways to
permanently
lose
my
self.
I think it’s time to swallow a mirror so I can see clearer, and climb the vine-y walls to find the ball I lost while playing the other day.
Sunrise Thoughts 