Sit Down

They say

sit down and write.

Sit down and tell me

the mystical characters and

worlds within your minds.

I shrug within my fonts

and I can't find anyone within me,

besides me.

They say write what you know,

but all I know is my world.

I can't make mysteries mystically


suddenly take hold within the blue lines

of my college ruled paper.

It has stains on it, 

I am clumsy.

Even with my thoughts

I am frantic and anxious.

I know myself,

and my characters are myself in

different forms,

ones I don't like.

Tell me children,

how do I make blank pages



more than one sheet,



Look at my wrinkles,

I am too young for this.

Give me

what I want.

The rest will come.

The End

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