Finding my voice

Who am I as a writer? I am not sure really.
I am searching.
You think I would have found me by now.
I am half way to somewhere
and still I am crawling on the floor,
looking for that sharpened pencil.

It rolled away. The paper still lies blank on the desktop.

Poetry

3 Comments Leave a comment

  1. You never know what you’ll find crawling around on some floors. Psst, don’t talk to the dust Bunnies, what do they know anyway. Hope you find your pencil. Good Luck !

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