The Page

The blank page
Stares back at me
Teasing with the very thoughts
I hate to admit.

Refreshes the memories
The pain attached.
Reminds the mind
Of the life I never had.

Point blank
And I submit
To the very thought that
I too will perish.

The futility, the fragility of life,
The nonsensical games,
The pathetic excuses,
The greetings aside.

And then I see
The white page,
The blankness
Becomes a part of me.

The twists, the turns,
The curves around,
The pen waiting
To let me...

Write and divulge
these very thoughts.
To those I know not
Or to let it all rot?

The pathetic attempt
To make the words work.
The illusion of being
Enlightened in this very dark.

That is what has become of me.
Trivial attempts of an escape
The rope, the latch, the collar attached
And this blank page I have.