• A hand gripped the plastic pencil,
    Filled with its stony gray graphite.
    With pencil in hand, the heart is inspired,
    But alas the mind has a different feeling
    With sabotage subconsciously planned.
    The brain has put forth writer's block.
    The heart urged the hand to write.
    In a few swift non calculated marks,
    The page shows a misshaped leaf
    Presented upon the smooth lined paper
    Of the olive green 5 star notebook.
    Still fighting the cruel writer's disease,
    The hand creates fine tunnels made of circles.
    The circles connected one after another
    And several tunnels become concocted
    From the pencil armed right hand.
    The heart and mind continue to battle
    Against one another in a futile attempt
    In a gruesome battle of who is right.
    The hand confused, continues to draw
    Fallen leaves blanketing the ground
    In golds, greens, and browns.
    This hand continues to reflexly draw
    The land in smooth, indifferent strokes.
    A bent-over tree with laugh wrinkles
    Appears on the left side of the page.
    Soon after it, an insect creature
    Shows up and begins to fill the page
    With black spots and a graphite body.
    Its antennae become exaggerated
    And grow almost twice as large as its body.
    Its legs are formed with short pencil strokes.
    Another bug shows up with shaded tiger stripes
    Instead of the spots like the first bug.
    All the while, the brain and heart continue
    To fight with each other in a vicious war.
    To write or not to write are the sides
    Taken within the exhausting struggle.
    The hand had long decided to stay neutral
    By drawing the multitude of curious drawings.
    Throughout the twenty minutes of going
    Back and forth, only three words are written.
    In the center of the paper in bold lettering,
    The hand has written this . . .
    "My brain hurts."