word

when it doesn't want to be written
it hides in plain sight,
between a forest
and its trees.

when it doesn't want to be written
it distracts and fogs,
with likes
and tweets.

when it doesn't want to be written
it tickles your neck,
like a string
or stray hair.

when it doesn't want to be written
it scoots right up,
beside your brain,
then disappears.

Categories: poetry

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