Today when I picked my pen
My mind was blank like the empty paper
Confused on what to write
A romantic prose or another heartbreaking story
Scribbles on the paper, decisions made in haste
Still got a piece nowhere to be finished
Closed my eyes, let my thoughts wander
Out of the window, into nature they went
From butterflies and birds to deadly creatures
From lakes and ponds to wide oceans
From farms and meadows to remote jungles
From grasslands and lowlands to high mountains
So many stories passing by
Yet not a one that I could call my own
Tried to write on breathing people
Found supernatural elements interfering
Exhausted, I closed my pen.
Decided to leave it for another day.
Picked up my phone and wallet
And went out in search of another me.