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SCRIBBLE AND SCRATCH
With a cup of tea, a pen, and my book
I sat to write at my favorite nook.
Head filled with voices trying to get out,
And a heart humming with tunes of doubt.
I scribble, and scratch then my words fade,
As I suppress the thoughts that make me afraid.
So I go back to the books that give me relief.
To find my answers within someone else's grief.
There are many problems within these books.
And in that world, solutions aren't mine to look
Within worn-out, annotated, and yellow pages,
I forget my fright as I did for ages.
Soon I'm drawn back to my nook
Holding on to empty pages of the notebook
I scribble, and scratch but the words don't fade
For I've let my thoughts out of its shade.
Starry Night ⭐
Lying down on our grassy lawn,
Stars arranged like they're drawn,
Little fingers intertwined,
Playing on loop Seeing blind.
Then, you stand up to light your cigar,
That's when I see a shooting star.
I see your face through lighters flame,
And realize both are the same.
(04.12.20)
Attempt at a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting 's December prompts.