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by Jess Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1361364
The reason for me to write.
I lay in my bed and write,
Wrapped up in blankets, fan blasting
The edges of my life flipping up,
I dream.

I can feel the cool wind
On my face, the fabric against my toes.
In the pitter-patters on my pencil
I scream.

I stare out the window past the trailers, the trees
Unfocused past the streetlights, and into the clouds,
Onto bigger and better things
I fly.

Not looking back, not erasing,
Not crossing out, not forgetting
The mistakes I made to get here.
© Copyright 2007 Jess (vanity-pride at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1361364-The-Writer