Words float aimlessly through my
Tired brain.
They beat their wings in an
Endless refrain,
Refusing to be caught
Despite my countless efforts.
I’ve got the stage wide-open to me
And,ironically, all that comes are
A stream of near-steamless spurts.
I want to capture the perfect phrase
To make the world understand,
Yet, even in this shadowy retreat,
I find my feet weak
And anything I frame
Almost too fragile to even stand.
Oh, frustration!
The consternation of this weary soul.
Frustration…
It takes the reins and leaves me
Spinning out of control…

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