blank black line

I wait,
unfilled.

and
if weight
had will

then
this
single stroked,
boldfaced
beckoning
of a choked

statement,
would be
unignorable.

yet
me uncoiled,
with
curl defurled,
and half air,

your effort foiled,
sits below
the phantom
words that aren’t
there,

it may just
be easier
to avoid.
avert.
not care.

’cause I know,
I know,
without flow,
it makes each
try
a show

for effort.
feeling
like a
skinned knee
of learning.

its
concerning

that
the physics
of school,
make fools
tools
of reality
and
give grades matter
with mass
for each class
weighing
down
that pencil.

hey friend,
pick up
that utensil…

just write something
they say.
give me something,
okay?

yet i remain
empty and broken,
stealing hope
leaving fear
then,

like 5:00pm halls,
you wonder
why
am I
still
here?

standing on
question one
your success
is based
in others
making
sense
of your words.

and
to do that

forcibly

I
will teach
you
that
sharp pencils
break
far too easily.

and that
empty paper
steals confidence
readily.

and that
sometimes
blank
black
lines
hold
no answers.