By Benjamin Shapiro
Feeling awfully empty round these parts 

With no words in my soul

Nothing inside to put to paper

No nouns to fill this gaping hole. 

I wish I had a poem now

The cursor blinks at me,

Blank screen screams at nothingness

Verbs vying to be free. 

I’m tired and I’m spread so thin, 

Adjectives alone won’t do,

Give me similes and metaphors, 

Like prisms spreading hues. 
Oh look, I wrote a poem,

Right before I fell asleep,

Not the greatest in the world,

But it is the world’s to keep.

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