i portray myself as a writer
a storyteller with pen and paper
and upon doing so
i believe i have experienced happiness
though i have not slept since yesterday morning
and the bathroom is becoming all too familiar from the countless energy drinks
and painkillers take the headache off for only a couple of hours at a time
but even after all of this
i believe i have experienced happiness
a piece of writing
a previous work in progress
months long now
has finally been completed
only the first draft mind you
but it is finally done
all written out
my heart and soul
my tears and sorrow
my hopes and dreams
scrawled in two in the morning handwriting
chicken scratch at best
all upon worn lined paper
folded
unfolded
folded back again
haphazardly clipped upon a dollar store clipboard
with a worn pen hanging from it
the first draft
of one of my work in progress scripts
has been completed
and i believe
that this is what happiness should feel like
if ever a feeling were to exist
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 2
Şiirjust a bunch of poetry, started january of 2020. we'll see how far it takes us. I basically just post random ass poems I create, not in any promised order. it just happens. this is book two - I stopped book one after one hundred poems. I think I'll...
