The Chaotic Dance of the Tired Mind

 

Outside, the sun is bright, the clouds are out, and
inside the piano sits, scores neatly open, ready to play
with my cousins
and all these yell at me. Come, come
in a hypnotic dance
alluring me, dragging my mind
out of its container
that no longer wants to work.
Take me, take me. 

Desperately, the container reaches for its contents
and forces them to stay
where I sit, head on table,
pen in hand. But what happens
if they are blank? 

Outside, the sun is bright, the clouds are out, and
alluring me, dragging my mind, I sit, head on table,
in a hypnotic dance.
Come, come, where I sit, pen in hand,
out of its container, ready to play
because I no longer want to work.

And all these yell at me,
for, what happens, if I am blank?