I must have looked very confused on that school day.
I was staring at this blank, white, sheet of paper,
waiting for it to speak to me.
I was so sure this essay would stay beautifully. . unwritten.
The time was ticking away and in this fight I was definitely beaten.
Then, you, Teacher, saw me.
A mess in disguise.
And gave me the greatest advice.
"Pretend you're writing poetry"
"Let your thoughts spill on paper."
But, Teacher, what you couldn't possibly know
is I stopped writing a long time ago.
No, I'm not out of ink. And I've got plenty of paper.
Maybe I'll explain the situation later.
Maybe after class! Or maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a month.
Maybe when I find the right words to explain this wrong situation.
Teacher. .
I lost my muse.
