I'm just tired.

The Writer's Block

A girl needs a break—

some rest,

a little Insta scroll,

a good Netflix film or two

to feel okay again.

When the week is wild,

she takes the whole month off.

But not anymore.

Now, there's only a hollow sphere

orbiting something boiling hot.

No one cares.

The moon doesn't.

The sun says he never did.

So she listens—

to every little breeze.

It whispers.

It threatens.

It tempts her toward something impure.

But she’s out of it.

Still unhappy.

Still streaming tears inside.

A heart gone dormant—

but she burns.