I draw fickle lines
I connect the dots
I think I messed up
But I fear not
Flip the pencil
Press into paper
Rub til it’s gone
Store it for later
I think it’s bad
I’m no good at art
At least there’s no color
Pencil’s in my heart

Rivoting eyes
Persed lips
Pretend I am her
Make believe I am him
I draw people
That I want to be
I draw places
That I want to see
Drawing is calming
Drawing is the dream
So I love to sketch
To forget the bad things
I sketch friends
Draw slashes on their face
I’m getting angry
This took a twist in the mace

Drawing is stressful
I’m messing up their skin
Cursing their name
As with red I fill in
My art looks gross
Looks like I burnt it alive
I’m not very creative
So to the art I say goodbye
If anyone finds it
It’ll be doom
My friend buried by me
She lays in the dirt strewn

I’m not a bad person
I think I could swear
But this drawing
Says other where
Flip the pencil
Erase to and fro
So glad it’s still there
My erasers usually go
I rub til it’s gone
And it’s a gray stained page
I’m tired of sketching
I resign for the day
My mind is a graveyard
Filled up with strife
I drew my friend dead
Because she erased me from her life.




© Waiteing