Writing On Command

Blank stares

at a blaring screen

What can I say?

It’s a treacherous scene!

Do letters ever get any sleep?

Surely not,

well – perhaps the letter ‘z’

I rarely find any rest at night

Writing to reach

self-imposed deadlines

But words know not

the notion of time

And I perish at the sight

of forced lines

Tell me, what is a sleep-deprived poet to do?

I heave a heavy sigh and press ‘CommandQ’

© Mena B. 2019

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