An open laptop on the marble café table,
Few words to be seen, clouded minds tow.
A pang, a guilt haunting from the inside,
Of disappointment, of discontent at one’s content.
Mugs of caffeine splayed on the grey,
In hopes of a high, that’s still far away,
That’ll spark the flow, sweeping people away.
Bustling with dreams, none to put down,
The effort of it all now seems futile.
Words of inspiration, to create my own
But I emerge out, feeling discouraged.
Un-certain, un-likely and un-original,
The vocable creating distress in my head.
Emotions to words, a translation unasked for,
But one, that the heart yearns for.
It’s still a race, for the deepest and the eloquent,
Comparing souls like it’s just two cents,
A gulp, a slam and I’m out the door,
With the ideas that still remained unsaid,
Wondering how many others exist out there,
Whose stories transcend mere words.