Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Checking Out

I wrote of demons and their dreams,

falling awake as the night nestled into a deep sleep and was replaced by the sun.

The blossoms made a bed in my black tresses,

and the stress of holding the pen became too much to bear,

so I let it fall from my hands,

hearing it clatter on the cold floor as Spring came.

There is only so much I can do.

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