Room 2

by Aglaya   Nov 18, 2014


There isn't enough room
to write the words inside my pen.
The page is small, a shrunken sheet
too withered to stretch across my bed.
Instead, the pen pours
a steady, soggy, drippy mess
of clicks and clacks that jumble
and get kicked across the floor.
And there I stand,
And there I've stood,
many hours gazing
at the clutter I have borne.

(Rhyme study.)

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Latest Comments

  • 11 years ago

    by Everlasting

    Your style of writing reminds me of someone else's style of writing. Though as far as the content of the poem, if you study brevity, perhaps it will be easier to write everything that is inside the pen into that small piece of paper.

    Thanks for sharing.

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