Obscurity

Too young to get serious

Too old to play

I’m probing for a middle ground

Yet I grasped none.

I fidgeted my brain with countless tap

Wishing for it to puke rainbows and unicorns

I sauntered on levitation

And everything fell in a slow-mo of cliché

I myself is baffled with my thoughts

I settled for vagueness

Until I lost track of my own motifs

Oblivion and its pungent taste, melted in my tongue

Sure I’m going to puke neither unicorns nor rainbows

But more likely a buttery goo of pride and ignominy

I stare back to my paper

It sees the pit I try to conceal

Between my finger and pen are the things I enshroud

And they stay where I left them.