Thoughts taking over,
ready to write. Wait, this
is wrong, no this is right!

A blank page is laughing
at me, waiting for me to sprinkle
it black, with ink. My hands are
frozen, looking around for anything
to start this poem.

Still nothing, ok “lets pick
a topic”: Nature, school, men,
friends. Oh I got it! It's great
when drama takes over your life,
it's like bullets of ice firing at u.

No shield, just words that has
a thousand reasons to scream back!
Is this a poem? Does it qualify for
interpretation? You are the eyes,
tell me.

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