your tone hovers
like an angry cloud of hornets
over the perfectly peaceful day
that i have said good night to.
i will tuck it away for now
knowing that its snippets of disgust
will linger in my dreams
blackening the blue of today’s sky.
you will know none of this.
as always, your stings come straight
from your rear end, piercing me
and then abandoning everything,
unaware of the pain you have inflicted.
This year I run into writing
even when it brings me pain
because pain breeds good writing
even when it brings me criticism
because criticism makes me more determined
even when I’m too tired to write
because lack of sleep is inspirational
even when I feel it’s going nowhere
because it always goes to me
even when I hate what I put in words
because no words are ever wasted
This year I am stepping write up
and revising who I am.
Step Write Up 