Have you ever been bordered and you want to share it out and you cannot?
You think writing it down on a piece of paper will heal but you are surprised even the paper don't want to listen to you? Then this poem reflects on one of such days.


1. N/A

With a pencil,

My head, mind and stencil,

I could write none

Because all was gone.


I thought i had a head

Filled with stuff, but a nerd

Instead was I

Without an edge.


With films of trash

Going through my head

And memory wise was ash

Like something a brain dead.


With ease and pain and stress

I'll try to clean this sweet mess

As to make wisdom my guest

And my top-most zest.



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