She writes herself to sleep each night,
the poems spilling out.
She throws a fit of pen and ink,
and beats the paper down.
She balls her fists, the poem screams,
it moans and groans and sways.
And then she shuts her poem book,
she smiles and walks away.
the poems spilling out.
She throws a fit of pen and ink,
and beats the paper down.
She balls her fists, the poem screams,
it moans and groans and sways.
And then she shuts her poem book,
she smiles and walks away.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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