Short, to the Point
They tell you to write what you know. I guess that means this poem ends here.
Interlude Before the Work at Hand
“What do you do for work again?” I’ve always hated it when my dates ask this. “I work for the State department.” The dumb ones don’t realize that’s the federal…
A poem I wrote in Sixth Grade
Insecurity A conniving reality Who forces us to do some things And later wonder why Depression A merciless predator Who cuts our hearts And wrists And blinds…