Day by day I face the foe of many a nightmare.
I see my biggest terror
On computer screens, in notebooks.
How am I to breathe around such a horrifying being?
I grow increasingly frightened by blank paper.

Now some may say a slate of white
Is beauty in its purist form.
Some say that unmarred paper,
Is tangible tranquility.
I disagree.

A blank sheet of paper is failure.
It is potential untapped-
A jungle unexplored.
It is a solar system unfound,
A strategy undevised,
A soul mate unloved.
Uninked paper is just a bunch of ‘un’s,
And ‘un’s are ungood.

A pencil somewhere is pointed at the tip.
An eraser nearby is flat of the edge.
Save these poor souls, find an unused notebook.
Write me a painting or draw me a poem,
Just please, dear reader,
Promise me you’ll never allow my nightmares
To come true.