I rack my brain,
To figure out what people will think
When I release this book
My first work printed in ink
When I put myself out there
These pages scattered with my soul
Because although I know,
Getting it off my chest will make me feel whole...
I question what kind of judgement
Will be waiting for me to behold
Do they think I'll be a starving artist
Right up until I grow old?
I'm used to writing,
about shitty little exes
And letting it go
after I've cast my silly hexes,
But now I'm addressing
Current life as we speak
And combing through every single aspect
Even all of the most bleak.
