There was a girl who became her dreams,
but her dreams were just nightmares in disguise.

The monsters crawled out of her head
and slept with her in bed.

She would scream and shout,
but there was no way out.

She listened to what the monsters said,
so her arms dripped red.

So she did all a little girl would,
she looked to a shooting star and wished that she could.

Not only does
The early bird
Catch the worm,
But they see the earth
Open into glorious horizons,
Over her blanket.

Your writing voice is the deepest possible reflection of who you are. The job of your voice is not to ****** or flatter or make well-shaped sentences. In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul.

We are infinite.
For in my sleep
Where truth does not count,
Love is endless.

Time never warned us
of the wounds it couldn't mend;
how strangers at the beginning
became strangers at the end.