Scribble scribble the pen bleeds 
War paint over these pages more like battle scars
Scared to give in as i have atomic fingertips one mishap could turn into a novelistic doom
Hurricane  projective view 
My core shatters at the seam

Silent screams as if it were earth quakes passing by 
Probing it's torso 
It's heart  beats no more
It's beam just a physical shadow of what was
Used to boak heart aches but doors to its twin windows closed 
 Now lifeless it soaks 
Birds never sang , times never moved , no one ever loved or doted like me 
Words escape and fight me 
Failures and needs to succeed blind me 
While the Pen and paper bind me 
Libraries taunt me books screaming " sign me" 

As I scribble scribble 
Too many "writers" haunt me as there's no more to nibble 
No light or rain but terror it dribbles
No healing but reeling more Dibbles 
The ghost is dead and so is the town .
Streets all paranoid what's a Halloween party without a gloomy sunday?
Nothing but a should be happy place for the mundane
Huh! What a fun day 

By A. Zoya