Alone

I sit alone at my desk,
Alone.
The silence for a friend.

My Bic pen grasped firmly in m hand,
My composition notebook,
The cover marred with various colors of sharpies,
Lays open in front of me.
The cold blank pages stare at me.
Mock me.
Sneer at me.
As if saying, “You have nothing important to say.”

With one last deep breath,
And a final glance at the mocking pages,
I begin to write.
And I write.
When I am finished I look back,
The pages no longer cold and blank,
But littered with my thoughts.
My words.
My heart.
My soul.
With me.
And no longer do the pages say, “You have nothing important to say.”
Now they says, “Why did you wait so long to write.”

Pretty good. Blank pages are evil and should be wiped out. I'm not sure about how you repeated the word say-

The cold blank pages stare at me.
Mock me.
Sneer at me.
As if saying, “You have nothing important to say.”

I was thinking something like

The cold blank pages stare at me.
Mock me.
Sneer at me.
Accuse me-"You have nothing important to say."

Or something like that, or just the quotation on a line by itself. Your choice, that just stood out to me. Keep writing.

I sit alone at my desk,
Alone.
The silence my only company.

My Bic pen, heavy as a blimp,
grasped firmly in m hand,
My composition notebook,
The cover marred with various colors of sharpies,
Lays open in front of me.
The cold blank pages stare at me,
refusing to be written upon.
They mock me.
Sneer at me.
Jeering, “You have nothing important to say.”

With one last deep breath,
And a final glance at the deviant pages,
I begin to write.
And I write.
Not thinking.
Not stopping.
Just writing.

When I finish writing, I look back at the pages,
now warm and inviting.
Littered with my thoughts.
My words.
My heart and soul.
With me.
And no longer do they laugh and accuse,
“You have nothing important to say.”
But now they nod with respect, and praise,
“Why did you wait so long to write?”

*Nods*

Nice

I agree with this poem all the way. Blank pages mock every writer and treat the writers like dirt. Written pages are full of grand power and emotion, depending on what the writer thinks. This proves the wickedness of blank pages. Keep writing for the sake of writing and someday you will have a grand amount of popularity.

i agree with your poem all the way too. it was great and don't change your poem bassed on somebody's opinion. you wrote your poem the way you wanted and i give you kudos for this poem. stay strong!!