words.
they've always flowed right out of me.
my pen hits the paper and writes
and writes
and
writes
a n d
w r i t e s.
i think i was born to do this.
my pen speeds up.
i write about another world, one i long for.
my pen stops.
what would she think of me writing like this?
my pen speeds up again.
my sentences trail off.
my confidence plummets.
what would she think?
my pen gets faster
i don't know what i'm writing
the words blur
big black marks on the page.
my hand hurts
but my pen speeds up.
what would she think?
water falls onto the page
and i lean farther over the paper.
big fat blobs fall and ruin my words
my beautiful beautiful words.
what. would. she. think.
my pen speeds up.
my words overlap
the wet paper tears under my pen
my pen speeds up.
what do i think?
nothing
i think nothing
my pen speeds up.
she thinks, though.
and she's angry.
my pen speeds up.
a cramp shoots up my wrist.
i see red
but my pen speeds up.
my pen speeds up
m y p e n s p e e d s u p
myyy peeen speeeds up
My P e N spEeds Up
MY PEn SPeeDs uP
MY PEN SPEEDS-
snap.
my pen snaps.
i let it fall.
i look down
i see shreds
shreds of paper
ink on my desk
and red. i see red.
and she's still angry.
This was another experimental one and a bit darker, but I hope you still liked it, guys!
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Poems of a Passionate, Puzzling, Pale Person
PoesíaA little book of poems I've written recently! A few joyful, a few solemn, a few in between. A few about nature, a few about humans, whatever suits your needs! Enjoy! (Those were the only P adjectives I could think of to describe me on the spot. Than...
