Writer's Block

Paper wads strewn about the room
covered in my half-thoughts,
my unfinished sentences.
The tap of my pencil
on my brand new legal pad
is all I can hear
aside from the roar
of my mom's old vacuum.
The words are trapped
somewhere inside
this mind of mine,
dying to get out,
I'm sure.
Or perhaps,
they were sucked up inside
that old, devil of a vacuum,
twirling around
with the dust and the dirt,
only to be condemned forever
to the life of a half-thought.

 

Copyright ©2008  Gretchen Ann Decker

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