Blank

Daily Poetry

A haunting realm of an endless void
forever haunting my eyes.
A fury of ideas run rampant.
Rampant.
As rampant as my ceaseless judgement.

Why must this brilliant mind succumb to the mockery of fictional characters,
who’ll never read these works?
Why do I weigh their opinions higher than the mighty creator – Oh I have sinned.

I suffer in this white expanse,
my spirit sent into limbo as these thoughts remain rampant.
Rampant.
As rampant as the blood in my frustrated heart.

Run you idiotic fingers!
These words cannot write themselves!
Or are you best lopped off,
and your works left to fruitless thralls beyond the screen?!