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Dilly Dally Day

September 23, 2013

Courtesy to Google Images

Not to long ago, in my World History class, I finished a simple test and pulled out my notebook. I didn’t start writing with an intention; I just put my pen to paper. Something magical happened…

 

My thoughts are hard to come by sometimes. They hide in my head, and taunt my every move. Why do they do this to me? I created them and yet they turn against me.  They alienate me. Most of my days I sit in pensive solitude, just trying to figure everything out, but it barely works. 

My words stick to the roof of  my mouth, like peanut butter, tasty yet so fatal. These words make blisters on my tongue and force my jaws to close. Everything I say works against me. 

The lackadaisical  people sit and stare into my silence. Do they see? Do they know? No, they don’t see for their eyes are closed. And, no, they don’t know for their minds close at the sight of something new. Their listless words fall out of their mouths and onto the cold tile floor, not making a difference in this world.

My feet are even against me. They lead me to places i dont want to go. Where I never want to go. They barely obey me.

My hands are the only things that obey me. They write what my words don’t say, and they clean my thoughts onto the blank page.

Oh how I love a blank page, it opens the doors and the windows to an open world. Where the wind blow through the grass and green leaves.

 

Then the bell rang.

 

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