A Writer’s Motivation

Folder: 
On Poetry

I scribble across the scarred page,

etching individuality onto

empty and expressionless paper.



I spill out all my pent-up rage-  

wounds become see-through,

my tears developing into a vapor.



It’s over as quickly as it had begun

my fingers in frantic motion,

in pursuit of earning another dime.  



I await their praise, their “well done”,

while I avoid raw emotion

and attempt to create polished rhyme.  

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captain's picture

Well said!