Everything I write, everything I draw; delete

The things I create, I cannot complete

Is it being insecure or being lazy?                                                            ­                                                                 ­     

I don't know how to be a productive lady                    

I feel stupid                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Since I can't anything executed

My work lives in the recycling bin

It's close in resemblance to a din

The backspace key is faded

My soul is abraded

I hate that I can't articulate

Does anyone else relate?

At least this poem is finished but it has no real end                                                              ­                                

I hope it shows what I intend

Good night sweet moon
In a wolf's howl
It searches for it's mate
As light casts its shadow

A lone wolf
Never stands by its self
It follows its pack
To bring it to health

By night it howls
Ever night over
And watches the stars
As it showers

Goodnight sweet moon
It howls each night
From the end of the day
Til dawns light

One night a year
Is perfect for me
Sweet and tasty my dear
How can it be?

Candy at doors
Kids in the street
With each I want more
With each that I eat.

Sweet like sugar
Sour and ****
Paired with a another
or alone, a la carte.

Never filled never full
It's a witch's delight
Eat them all whole
On Halloween night.

They kick and they scream, they bite and they squeal
These kids who will be, my very next meal.