The Other Side of a Story.: My Political Compass

A Story

My hands scatter fleetingly across blank pages,
Everywhere they pass, scribbles are formed,
The ghost-white material waits patiently under my indecisive palms,
My stumped brain suspends my fingers from releasing new words.
My hands fear the thought of no conclusion,
The thought of the endless blank pages to come,
My left hand comforts the knuckles of my right,
As my right begins to doodle newborn expressions,
I do not agree with what my hands have written,
My hands have made mistakes,
My hands are false,
My hands crumble the sketched page with a firm fist,
And toss it into the waste,
My hands must start again.

The Other Side of a Story.

A New Beginning

Friday, January 21, 2011

My Political Compass

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