Unheard | Day-26 | NaPoWriMo2016

Leaping rapidly muse to muse,

Cutting off dreams,

Fragmenting thoughts,

A nascent imagery,

Half baked themes,

Drying my pen out,

Without even writing,

Like someone muzzled my mouth,

Clipped my fingers,

And censored my mind,

I’m phobic to blank sheets,

Ceilings and white walls,

Musing is an art,

My craft hasn’t mastered,

And I will always remain,

Unheard.

 

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