The pristine white sheet burns into my eyes,
blank, like the thoughts in my head,
It’s daunting, mocking, empty.
I want to be able to do something, anything,
I don’t move.
The sharpened pencil gripped in my hand,
the tip hovers just above the page.
The blinking cursor on the screen,
my hands hover just above the keyboard.
The racing thoughts in my head,
my mind hovers just above the answer.
I don’t move.
They come out of nowhere,
people rising up from the ashes,
no coordination, no plan in place,
just people who, at the same time, spread all over,
They are smiling,
Lips stretched up, with a slight crinkle of their eyes,
They are listening,
Nodding along, making hums of acknowledgement,
They are happy,
The lies are ready on your lips, practiced, you done this a thousand times, but you falter. You falter and shatter the illusion of truth.
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