Sometimes…there is just nothing there

Sometimes I open this up
And there is nothing there
Some say words write themselves
Or maybe those times are rare
Try to catch it before it escapes
Like when they hit you like rain
Or when they drown you like a wave
Those times they are already there
But sometimes I hold the virtual pen
And there is nothing left to bare
Just some coffee to drink
Morning to see
Another day
And more thoughts to think
See you on the next wave
Sometimes the writer
Writes there is nothing to say
She opens this book up
And the words say not today
Or not right now
I guess they are tired of being overused
Projected spent and bruised
Kind of funny


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