By Bethany Vela
Lost in thought, lost in mind,
Trapped in a page of written lines.
Can’t break free;
Would I even want to?
I have a story to tell,
Let me tell it to you.
The night is late; I cannot sleep.
I will not dream, I will not eat.
Without the words, I am alone.
No one to talk to, no one who knows.
I’m sitting here in the dark,
A match is lit, I see the spark.
The smell of smoke, the light of flames,
The time has come to write again.
I struggle, I reach, the words just out of grasp,
Locked away in my mind; help me undo the clasp.
Fingers searching for the lock,
While ever faster ticks the clock.
My time is short, my thoughts are fleeting.
How can I write what I am reading?
Staring at an empty page, looking for my saving grace.
But the words won’t come, and still I wait
For the light in the dark to guide me away.
Bethany Vela is a fifteen-year-old blogger and middle child of seven who enjoys reading, novel writing, and mapmaking. When she isn’t scribbling in a notebook, you are likely to find her loudly explaining to her computer why it is perfectly logical for her to use the British English spelling of words, even though she is American. She is currently rewriting the first draft of her novel and trying to figure out exactly what the limit is on sarcasm in fiction.