I stare at the paper
It glares back
shouts, "Tell me
what's on your mind!"
I mouth the words, "I can't"
As the pen slips from my grasp

Jumbled thoughts
Pound against my skull
Looking for an exit
They're giving me a headache
With their endless screams
"Let us out!"
I whisper, "Why can't you understand
the pain you'll cause?"

Stacks of old notebooks
Begin to "thump, thump, thump"
On my bookshelf
Demanding to be heard
Their pages rustling
with the truth
As a can of pens
tumble to the floor

The pens roll towards my feet
All I can hear is a hum
As they begin to add their two cents
To this maddening protest
"Spill our ink onto your canvas!
Paint a world beautifully bleak
and let this cacophony come to an end!"

Their cries grow louder
This symphony is deafening
I close my eyes, muttering
The word stop until I'm yelling

A sudden silence envelops me
Warm and inviting like a
Blanket on a cold winter night
Only one thought is clear:
I'm content living in

--Sandra S., 19