Un poème rapide sur un coin de table

There’s this obstacle
There’s this obstacle
There’s this way out
But no way
To see it
Out
Of a white page
Begging
For a bit of change
Of one’s memory
Of one’s creativity
Hinged, and fragmented.
Mostly, I would throw these out
Or away
Vanishing in a trash bin I can’t see
Somewhere out there
With one door on my screen
Where I can never go
Where bits of me are loss
Not to be forgotten but to never be known
Because of this obstacle
That I confront
With words that displease me
With assonances that disappoint
Reflecting feelings I find petty
With a way out
Surely
That I cannot see
Blinded, as I am
By my un-letting sense of mediocrity.