When I see pages blank
Words spout like random doodle
Triggered by a white space
Empty page
That yearns for contrast
Itchy ink
The last 15 seem blank
I would’ve survived prison
With how routine whipped me
But the void is opposite
Of what I filled it
Rather
I was filled with
Picture this
Sunny day
The shade of what before me was built
On its peak
Your face and grace
You’re unaware
And yet this fits
I never begged before
For anything
I’ve been accepting
But you I don’t think I deserve
For anything
Fulfill my being
danDAman 