All day long I write an essay,
Words slam against my skull,
Day after day.
I think in rhymes all day long
But when I pick up a pen,
They are fleeting gone.
I wish I could write what's in my mind
Only held back by the hope they might find
This book,
and all the time it took,
To jot what comes to me in seconds.
Now I know, that last line didn't rhyme
But sometimes that simply takes time.
Maybe if I could write a little bit faster,
Words come quicker,
Releasing words not tears,
Would be a lot easier.
Hey so new book, I suck. Sorry if this is really bad it has no structure but I had to get it out of my head. If you want some good poetry go check out -theunworthy they are suuuper good!
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryEccedentesiast [noun] One who fakes a smile. One who represses pain by stifling a smile. One who hides behind a smile.
