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Catastrophe
I may never write again,
in this wordless void
I feel helpless, hopeless,
discombobulated,
a stressed out mess.
Thoughts evaporate
into clouds of mist
high above my head.
I feel numb, dumb
and distressed.
Hot tears rain down
upon an empty page.
This is disastrous,
a bloody catastrophe,
I rage.
My fingers type
as the keyboard wobbles
under pressure
from a virgin sheet,
all sterile.
What trick is this,
that my wordiness
should be stubbed out
like a half smoked
cigarette………..
poem
by
Ruth Walters
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