every day feels like a blank page
I stare into emptiness
as words fly into one ear
and out the other
always telling myself
that I'll make something
out of each new page I am given
that I might fold it into something new
but I'm always too afraid I might mess up
the structured square that is my life.

what a mean girl I am
throwing around words I half understand
letting them bump and bruise strangers
not thinking it might hurt them later

what an awful person they must see
a person no one wants to be
making promises she can't keep
and disappointing in the end

A perfect example of what not to do
doing things not well thought through
crude and cruel down to the bone
yet wonders why she's left alone.