Original 10/05/2020, Edited 12/05/2021
There’s no dull background noise; Everything sits in the small foreground. The music; curated for a young child, Is as conducive to creative writing as Feeding a lazy dog all of my pens And burning each of my notebooks. This room knows my name, Yet insists on calling me mother At every conceivable moment; At each attempt to concentrate On putting pen to digital paper. Although, I’m not being charged extra For dairy-free milk and chocolate syrup.