Because the rules are confusing
with inconspicuous exceptions that you always forget
or find discovered by a pen’s mark in red.
Sympathy is as foreign to them as subjectivity.
Because the words have no meaning
over the sentences they have written, trying
to clarify the ambiguous idea. They intricately
move for no one to read.
Re-think your deadline.
Because papers are blank slates
on which you still haven’t written,
their empty lines stare back at you,
including the blinking cursor in Microsoft Word,
the emptiness waiting for your return.
Because they require the effort
of a rough draft, then a second draft to polish,
edit a third only to crumble and toss in the
trash as if each paper portrays failure.
Because you can work on it, but
it never is finished. Because it’s your
piece of art–abandoned or not. Because
something within in you is revealed.
Something revealed you’ve never seen until now.