izz_midnight

The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity-clacking of the keys on the keyboard. 

Even your favorite subject can be your hardest.  

Even the "smart ones" will fail. 

Even good grades become futile.  

Even a textbook won't teach you.   

Inspired By My Own Book Series 

“What are you going to miss most?”
“You.”

     Oh lover,

sometimes

when my fingers don't itch to write

and the keyboard is a faraway memory, 

i curse myself

curse the world

because i feel like poetry is pointless.

why

do my hands know exactly how