17/30 | Fingers | National Poetry Month 2018

Fingers move across the keyboard like they are playing a game. A game I just get to sit and watch… They don’t get to kick the same key more than once, except in some rare cases…. the fingers don’t care what words are formed on the screen, nor are they bothered about the sentences… if the meaning in those would hurt someone or make someone smile. every moment there are countless such sentences born from so many unknown fingers… some thumbs get a chance in the riot, but mostly it is the luck three or four in both hands…. the pinky mostly just stay there with no specific reason that just move around. Sometimes I allow the pinky to type. like this one…pinky… but that was just my right pinky.. I will let me left get a chance to type another day…. typing is always better than pointing at others… even if the sentences could blame…… I don’t do anything.. my fingers do….

Categories: Poetry

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