Trapped (the real one)

I’m trapped in a classroom
with nothing to write.
I’m stuck in a room
with walls of purple and white.

I stare
at the blank page.
It makes my head spin.
Every line has potential
but my imagination
is dead.

Everywhere where I turn for inspiration
seems to fail me.
When I search around the room,
there are nothing but shelves
filled with books.
Students quickly move their pencils
along their paper
before the ideas
slip
their minds.
The clock ticks slowly
tormenting me.
Is this class ever
going to end?

I fill my paper with many
scribbles,
and doodles,
of all kinds,
when suddenly
an idea comes to mind.

I quickly move my pencil
along my paper
before the idea
slips
my mind.

What if I write about this?

I’m trapped in a classroom
with nothing to write.





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