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by DariaTheGirlWhoLovesPizza

My fingertips sit at the keyboard,

Aching for the perfect words.

“Perfect isn’t real.” I say,

But yet my eyes still stare.

They stare the white screen down,

Yearning to read my careless work.


Bruises chunked on my face,

From all the doubts in my brain.

Yet my fingers still ache,

As I hold down the backspace.


My neck feels like a brick,

As sweat sweeps across my face.

I check the clock,

3 hours.

3 hours I sat here with a blank stare.

3 hours I’ve lost…


No, I've lost more than that.


My head feels ill,

As I repeat the same gutted line.

“Perfect isn’t real.”


My fingertips peel off as I slam my computer close.

My skin feeling like a riptide,

My thoughts like explosions across the sky,

Except instead of beautiful colors.

All I got was this.

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36 Reviews

Points: 639
Reviews: 36

Thu Aug 08, 2019 6:56 pm
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demoncat wrote a review...

Hello I'm demoncat here for a review.

I would like to start by saying.... Awh.. like this poem is so me. I could really feel the emotion and the frustration. It was so real the i got alittle frustrated while reading it. You depicted writers block so well. And I like the ending too. It's almost as if you are saying this poem is what you got from all of that. So I hope you continue to write awesome poems like this.
Good job.

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15 Reviews

Points: 77
Reviews: 15

Wed Aug 07, 2019 11:19 pm
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Anamel wrote a review...

This perfectly conveys frustration and how slow and terrible time goes when you're trying to focus and work on something you don't want to do. And especially the feeling of wanting to create something great and beautiful and instead having your expectations not be met. It's kind of like writer's block. I think a lot of people including myself aim for perfectionism in their words and when they reach a point of giving up they realize perfect may not be attainable despite still craving it. I honestly have nothing to critique here.

According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible.
— The Bee Movie