Twelve


I have no ideas
No time management
No motivation
No thoughts or creativity or interpretation.
I have no desire or reason
No interest
Or impulse
This seems to be the dry season.
For four years they pound
Be unique
Be thoughtful and bold
Be crafty and organized
Yet well rounded and athletic
But artsy and friendly
And just overflow your threshold.
So now, when the time is here
To plan
To write and apply and pursue,
I am empty and just a lifeless puppeteer.

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