I’ve been trying to close this chapter of my life
for too long
and I can’t finish it
I’m stuck in the boring part
and I can’t skip ahead
Every waking moment is spent thinking about the moment after that
it’s impossible to write, when there is no life to write about
the book never ends
it’s just a bunch of blank pages
and I don’t believe I can write them alone
What is this book, anyway?
It used to be the chapters were planned out
now there is no plan
there is no writer
he doesn’t seem to have enough imagination
to come up with anything real
the plot is dead
the mind wanders
there is nothing to be read
at the end of life.
Your creative mind finds a way to open up the reader’s mind to something missing, even on a blank page. Well done!
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Thanks bigskybuckeye!!!
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