Unplugged Potential

The socket gapes in cracked paint,

empty holes like waiting mouths.

No cord, no spark—just silent promise

humming in the quiet room.

It stares at me, a hollow invitation,

a pause where power could live.

I touch the cold plastic, feeling

all the energy I’ve left unclaimed.

Unplugged, it waits for purpose,

and I wait with it, still, unresolved,

the ghost of current in the absence,

a charge unspent beneath the dust.