Today, my pen decided to take a rest.
It was 5 past 10 pm.
He refused to be further instrumentalized
and denied his service.
I looked around, uncertain of what to do next.
Nothing
might be the answer,
as it is to all questions.
What can I do about him?
What can I do about me?
What can I do to help him?
To get out of this story?
To get away from it all?
To change? To be who I really am?
Nothing.
Today, my pen decided to take a rest.
It was 5 past 10 pm.
