I was asked to write a poem; 

A ballad actually… 

As I sat with my piece of paper, 

Nothing came to mind; unusually. 

I sat, sneezing away 

For the weather made me shiver,

And as I sipped on a warm cup of green tea to give me inspiration, 

Not even a fraction of an idea emerged; not even a sliver. 

So, I lay my head on the desk 

And fell weak to the realms of sleep…  

“Wake up!”, my mom screamed, 

“Is this the right time to fall into a sleep so deep?”

I wondered if I should answer that question, 

But I decided to keep it within me. 

Anyways, I took a deep breath, 

And started writing some words on a paper, while shaking my knee.

Before I knew it, my words became sentences and– 

There lied in front of me a story;

A story with a few gaps, cracks, and hidden nooks,

But still one of glory.

A story of loss, love, fear, and termoil, 

A girl made of glass, 

Rainy summer evenings,

Elephants, tigers, lions, 

Picnics during a thunderstorm. 

A hero, a legend,

Cold, and harsh winds,

Guilt, anger, confusion,

Every single character,

Personality,

And human to ever exist.

It was an emotional catharsis,

But more importantly, it was a ballad of everything. 

It was my story; the birth of my imagination, 

And a lot of pride did that bring. 

I went to class with a huge smile glued onto my face,

For I was overjoyed, excited, and overzealous about what I wrote;

I asked my friend to come take a look at my poem, 

As I honestly wanted to boast.

She looked at me; perplexed,

“Why, you’ve written absolutely nothing on your paper!”

I confidently responded, “Isn’t that the beauty; it’s a poem about everything and nothing,

And it’s existence will never taper.”