This poem was written from boredom. It was written because of an idle pencil in between my finger and thumb. This poem was written from no inspiration. From the condensation of so many moments whose potential went unrealized. Finalized by the fact that nothing was occupying my mind, this poem was signed by a presently creativeless entity. Me. This poem was written from too much thought and not enough conclusion. Now when I want to start breaking down the walls of delusion surrounding my mind, I have no answers. These words were written from a lack of attention being paid to my abstract. Life starts to contract and close in on me and my growing apathy becomes my own worst enemy. This poem was written from a need. It's a reminder to frequently feed my passions and always encourage the clash in my mind where evolution has no limits and creativity is continuously allowed to roam free.