Caffeine-Free

Haven't argued with the keyboard in some time now,
it's become difficult to let the keys reveal my thoughts.
They'd flow from wherever they originated,
right down my arms,
into my hands,
onto the screen as my fingers tapped the proper or improper keys.
Backspace would become a habit, and I'd begin again.
I suppose it's because thoughts don't make it out unless they're given the power to do so,
my arms miss their confusion,
my hands miss their melancholy,
my eyes miss the mistakes.
That's no coincidence, they don't exist.
Truths have become my weapons against the almighty keyboard,
and backspace, a long-lost acquaintance.