Quiet Storm
Kortney Wilkerson Ferguson
My brain is silent when I
need it to produce poetic lines
to fulfill my final year of
high school english class.
Poetry pictured in my head
shows no promising phrases
to create a metaphor of nothingness
to show the profound thoughts
put together for a purpose of not writing prose.
Thinking of quiet is not what I am.
Tortured to find something in my
brain to sustain the peace of
producing something that
isn’t there.
My brain is blank as a blackboard
without words to share what do I
care? Only silence is there with
very few words to share—this
is my despair.
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