I think you are the hardest prompt I ever attempted
but yet many will definitely consider you as the easiest.
I usually have you all polished roughly by Monday
but now my page still lay bare without you.
I read another’s entry, moved to tears and
guilt because of what I have inside.
I wrote a post, raw, I password protected it
but even then my heart cried more,
so I deleted the post.
I did not want to write another but at the same time
I needed to write another.
Cogged by circumstances which I allowed to make me
I sometimes detested the breath of life
so could you imagine my face at the mere mention of thanksgiving?
I am a lost cause, an art never flourishing yet decaying.
I am ungratefully unthankful, not as a boast
but a flame seconds away from losing a weak flame.