Sitting in my room
pen in my hand, daydreaming out the window
thinking, what shall I write this time?
Sometimes when I look out the window
I think I am going to get an idea about what to write
It never seems to work
As I stare at the blank page in front of me

looking at all the lines

thinking this would look great if it had some words on the page
Some ideas cross my mind

but they’re small ideas

I want big ideas
I try to think back to different experiences

nothing, that’s what I am thinking

I still have that same question in my head
What shall I write this time?

I guess I am going to have to come back to this tomorrow

Maybe more ideas will come in to my head