Writing a million drafts
Of inadequate poems that barely qualify as such
The amount of published works is exceeded by the number of drafts
The delete button lurks below
But shall never be touched
Every untitled draft contains a thought from a time in which I could do nothing but write out my feelings to relieve the chemicals rushing through my brain
The drafts are not neglected
They are read to remind myself that I have felt just as unpleasant and survived
Some are grown into published works and are allowed into the outside garden
While others continue to sit in my metaphorical windowsill
Only to be seen by those I let in and myself