Overthinking

It finally happened you think gleefully,

scrambling to find a pen to scratch down your perfect thought

perfect enough to be worth thinking

perfect enough to be worth writing

worth the ink that stains your perfectly white page.

You hold up the perfectly poised letters,

like a great, glistening, monument

Admirable and groundbreaking

not like those boring buildings surrounding it.

But then you cut its limbs

that perfect thought that was finally worth something.

You watch it morph from a perfect thought

to lines and scratches.

You watch your hand

make the pen bleed onto the perfectly white page

and words no longer make sentences that unfreeze minds.

Words are just letters strung together

stringing you along

meaninglessly.

And that perfect thought

the one finally worth sharing

is reduced to rubble

The lines and scratches a reminder

that maybe

it was once beautiful.